


Mine

by Procrastination_Sensation



Series: Demon of Truth Verse [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Torture, Demon of Truth Shinichi, Genderfluid Shinichi, Other, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sorcerer Kaito, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Procrastination_Sensation/pseuds/Procrastination_Sensation
Summary: Magical Creatures are more often possessive than not.(Please be advised that this is a sequel work)





	1. Marking Your Treasures

**Author's Note:**

> I added some vague lore to the au, so  
> Categories of Magical Creatures are as follows:  
> Pure - Angels and shit (barely mentioned)  
> Noble - (Good-neutral beings like Shinichi and Ran)  
> Tainted - (Bad-neutral beings like Sonoko and Heiji)  
> Damned - Demons basically

Kaito’s first hint, he realizes long after it begins, is the fact that Shinichi likes biting.

Not nibbles and nips and grazes of teeth on skin (although they certainly seem to have no dislikes when it comes to sex), no, when Kaito says biting he means teeth digging into skin biting.

Leaving indentations.

Leaving bruises.

She of course apologizes when she first sees the dark purple mark etched deep into his neck that first morning after, hurriedly offering to heal it and even reaching a hand out.

But Kaito surprises himself just as much as he does her when he snatches her wrist mid-move to stop her. He can feel the ache when he moves his head, tries to roll his shoulders, and when he tries to touch it, it pulses angrily.

But no matter how much he even considers healing it or having Shinichi heal it, he can’t help but remember how before she’d pressed her mouth against his neck she’d said “My love” and called him “beautiful” and nuzzled the spot sweetly. How when her teeth had sunken into him pleasure had roiled together with the pain and raced through his nervous system. How he’d heard her soft moans even though they'd been muffled, felt her squeeze around him like a vice as she came, making his dick twitch even though he’d already come. How when she’d pulled off she’d sighed happily and lapped lazily at the abused skin. How he had felt a rumbling purr vibrate from her body through the hand he had pressed between her slick shoulder-blades under her curtain of hair, felt it through the heavy breasts pressed against his chest.

How, no matter how concerned she’d looked when she’d seen the angry bruise, her eyes had still dilated ever-so-slightly, and the way she’d reached to heal him had been only-barely hindered by the reluctance he could see in the way she bit her lip.

He stops her, and after searching his eyes to make certain he is sure, her face blossoms into a pleased smile and glows with satisfaction. She tightens slightly around him for that, as if it's a reward, and it certainly feels like it when she grinds down into his lap around his re-hardening cock. She drags her nails consideringly down his back when he groans.

~

His next clue is when Aoko introduces her to lipstick.

To be precise: Aoko introduces her to make-up in general, trying maybe a bit too hard to find a topic that they might both be interested in. This one ends up being half a failure- half a resounding success.

Shinichi doesn't like eyeshadow- it makes her eyelids feel too heavy. Mascara is unnecessary with how long their eyelashes are naturally, and foundation is an absolute failure because it's both heavy _and_ unnecessary. Because of course most magical beings have naturally clear skin.

Eyeliner interests Shinichi about as much as someone not vegetarian would be interested in tofu: with wary curiosity and a willingness to experiment. Kaito’s pretty sure what interests them the most is the way the green eyeliner seems to make their eyes look almost cyan rather than blue- something Aoko points out to them excitedly.

Lipstick though- that is the true accomplishment. She wears it more often than not once she gets the hang of applying it herself, her lips almost always at least shiny now. With lip balm if nothing else.

Surprisingly, she doesn't like red. He'd thought that it would be one of her favorites, but her lips purse as she fingers the different shades in distaste.

“Why?” He asks her once.

“It reminds me of that Warlock,” she admits. His mind flashes to Koizumi and her blood-red lips and doesn't need to ask again.

The second surprise is that her favorite color to wear casually is a soft indigo, rather than a bright color that she often tends towards otherwise.

When he asks her about it, Shinichi replies “Don’t you think it’s the same color as my mark?” She fingers her neck and smiles at him fondly, and he has to duck his head to blush at the thought that she actually likes the mark now.

The moment he discovers the extent of her affinity for lipstick, though, is a lot less innocent.

She breezes into the living room when he’s just finished putting away his homework, smirking lips dressed in a purple color that reminds Kaito of the plums she’d once fed him. She approaches him with sure footsteps and stops right next to the couch, smelling faintly of the ocean, and reaches out a hand to lightly touch his thigh.

“Can you please sit up?” Her request is contrastingly quiet- barely breaching the silence, and she traces careful patterns over his jeans with her nail. He blinks up at her in interest but does not hesitate in pushing up from his lounging position to sit mostly straight and face towards her. He raises an eyebrow and she leans down, making Kaito expect a kiss.

He doesn’t get a kiss- just warm breath washing over his ear as she whispers, sending shivers down his spine, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He watches her pull back, stare down at him as if waiting to see if he will argue at all, and he starts, “Shinichi, what-”

Which is when she drops to her knees in one fluid motion, the hand on his thigh racing up to grip his hip and making the words freeze in his throat. Her blue eyes watching him, taking in every emotion she must read in his face are all he can fully process. That, and Shinichi’s other hand that’s massaging into the muscle on his calf out of sight.

Then she slowly, slowly lowers her face to press her nose against the seam of his jeans and-.

And oh.

She’s still looking, checking to see if he has any protests, because they haven’t been doing sexual things long enough to know if anything off-limits will pop up, but Kaito’s having a hard time swallowing at just the thought of Shinichi doing- doing _that_.

She must somehow read a go-ahead in his face somewhere because he watches her ever so carefully curl her purple lips back to clench his zipper between her teeth and _slowly_ \- so slowly he can hear the individual clicks- pulls it down.

Kaito can’t possibly stop watching. He’s barely _breathing_ at the sight.

She doesn’t look away as the hand she had gripping his hip traces its way over to pop his button free, the constraining fabric loosening and letting his already half-hard cock shift forward through his boxers. It reaches towards Shinichi’s still-hovering mouth, and he watches in awe as her irises visibly darken, lips almost quivering.

Then she must lose some patience because one moment she still has a hand on his calf and the next she yanks his jeans and boxers off him in one move. She barely gives him a chance to startle- immediately shoving her nose against the base of his dick and inhaling deeply, nuzzling against the coarse hairs. The head is already bumping against her throat, embarrassingly enough, the sight of it all forcing a breathy, “ _ah!_ ” from him.

His breath hitches on a gasp as she licks a line from tip to base, pulling back slightly to hum, then murmurs, “You taste as good as you smell, love” before going back to lap all over the sensitive skin, making sure to wet every inch.

An uncontrolled whimper leaves Kaito’s throat, a broken “Shinichi-” makes her eyes find his again, making her pause suddenly with her tongue flattened against him, eyes widening in realization. His dick is fully hard now, red and hot under her mouth.

“Sorry sweetheart- got distracted,” she places an apologetic kiss, deliberately exact, around the slit and pulls back to examine it with feline satisfaction. Then she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and leans forward, engulfing his head in one move with a soft sound. _His_ responding sound is louder but shorter, startled out of him at the sudden wet heat _surrounding_ -

Which is when she presses even further down- down down until the head strokes past her soft palate and lodges in the opening of her throat, causing a full-body flinch to jolt through Kaito as he curls his fingers into the couch, a loud and drawn out moan that could be considered a shout escaping him.

“Shin-” he gasps out, staring down at her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, too preoccupied with the fact that there is still a fair amount of bare cock that is _not in her mouth_. She releases a whine of frustration, making Kaito moan again, and he watches incredulously as she shoves her face further into the cage of his thighs. Her plum-colored lips stretch wide as she forces the tip of his dick down into her throat, past the entrance and making her choke around him, stopping her in her tracks as her throat convulses around it, a slight wheezing sound coming from her.

“Wh- Shinichi _stop_ ,” Kaito manages to protest, alarmed at the way her eyes are watering, but before he can reach to pull her off he sees her eyes fly to meet his in panic.

“Mm!” is the muffled sound he can make out from the mouth stuffed full of his cock, and the feeling of it nearly makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. It’s punctuated by the way Shinichi still manages to shake her head slightly at him and reaches one of her hands up from where they’d been resting out of sight to pet frantically at his thigh, expression pleading as she swallows. He crumples forward at that, moving one of his hands to rest softly on her cheek, feeling the stiff texture of his own dick from the outside with a tint of embarrassment that’s frankly ridiculous, considering.

They don’t break eye contact as her breathing slowly evens out once more, and she signals that she’s ready again by pressing her tongue against the line of his vein.

“‘Re y’ sure?” It wavers out of him after he gasps, and she gazes back at him with eyes dark with lust and filled with determination. _Determination_ he thinks incredulously, fondness warming his chest, and he can’t very well say no to that, can he? He spreads his legs farther apart so she won’t have to fight the press of his legs as well as the length of his dick, and he swears she smirks at him before finally averting her eyes to size up the other couple inches left.

Shinichi looks at them like they’re a challenge, contemplative, and she swallows one more time (making his breath hitch) before going all in in one movement. She buries her nose in his pubic hair with a loud moan of satisfaction, closing her eyes as if savoring the taste and sucking lightly around him.

A groan rips itself out of Kaito’s throat, and he has to honestly fight against himself to not just blow his load right here, her mouth and throat around him _hot wet squeezing tight_ \- He shakily moves his hand from her cheek to weave it into the strands of her hair, grasping as lightly as he can for an ounce of sanity he may still have left. At the feel of his hand in her hair Shinichi’s eyes open, regarding his disheveled state in heavy-lidded interest. Her eyes meet his, and once hers somehow read him she starts purring, loud and rumbling and _oh gods he can feel it_ _massaging his dick_ -

His breath hitches out on a stuttering moan, causing something to flash through her gaze. He can’t identify it- but whatever it is makes her pull off his dick in one move, a whine aching out of him at the loss. His cock is dark red now, glistening with saliva and smattered with dark marks that Kaito can’t identify with his mind in a haze. He’s also _dripping_ precum, he realizes, a flush that would’ve risen to his cheeks at the thought making him realize his face is already entirely red. Shinichi hums consolingly in response to the whine, the sound much more gravelly than usual, pressing her lips to every inch of him and making sure to duck down to lick a few times at his balls.

The sensations are converging on him, and Kaito slurs out a desperate, “Shin’ichi-”, making her stop and look up at him. The sudden lack of _anything_ makes his following warning almost whiny as he groans, “I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.” He thinks the way his toes are curling into the carpet at just the feel of her warm breath whispering over his sensitive skin is telling enough.

She looks calculating as she keeps her mouth hovering over his twitching length, tongue poking past her lips as if it’s reaching for it, and her eyes move slowly from the leaking tip to his flushed crimson (delectable) face, following a drop of sweat that traces a path down his neck into the collar of his shirt, then back to the start. He watches as the blue practically disappears from her eyes, dilating completely as she takes in the sight of the plum-colored lipstick smeared all over his dick, her breath hitching in awe. She laps at the slit, gathering the precum onto her tongue, before lunging forward to engulf him completely once more, not pausing this time as the head passes into her throat as if there was never any resistance in the first place, her lips wrapping around the taut skin of his base.

“Shi-” he barely protests, his voice rising in pitch, and he can’t stop himself from thrusting forward for friction, the hand buried in her hair tightening at the roots. He realizes what he’s doing the second he’s doing it, horrified at himself, and immediately starts loosening his grip when she honest-to-god _whines_ , staring up at him. A frozen moment where he doesn’t know what to do next, when she makes the decision for him by grasping at the hand he still has clawing at the couch, pulling it away, and sets it on the opposite side of her head. He stares down at her in confusion, her eyes darkening in response, then she curls her fingers around his own so that they’re both holding a fistful of her hair, and proceeds to yank at her hair _hard_ , pulling herself off his cock only to slam herself back down, impaling her throat back down around it.

They both moan, his loud and breathy, hers muffled and deep, and he finds her eyes as he squeaks, “You want me to-?” The only reply he gets is another whine vibrating around him, her wide eyes beseeching, and he swallows, breath coming out on a whimper of his own as he tightens his grip on her hair with both fists. Her eyelids lower at the feeling, releasing her grip on his hand to move both of her own to squeeze at his calves, the purring coming back to rumble softly against the head of his dick. He mumbles out a quiet, choked, “ _okay-_ ” before proceeding to fuck Shinichi’s throat, not even bothering to thrust his hips with the way she moans and makes pleasured sounds each time he drags her away and forces her down using only her hair.

He chases his approaching orgasm, the sensations acting as his guide, and he looks down only to see her watching him, blue eyes filled with love and desire fixed solely on his face. “You’re _beautiful_ ,” he whimpers out, wanting to touch her face but overwhelmed by his need for release. “Your _eyes_ , Shinichi- god you- _I love you-_ ” The last words are a slur as he hauls her back one last time and releases all over her face, her eyes closing instinctively to protect them from getting the mess in them.

He falls forward off the couch, crumpling into her, harsh grip on her hair immediately softening to automatic strokes, petting her. He shoves his face against her soft chest, forehead pressed against her heartbeat, and takes a couple of minutes to regain his breath and sense of self, using the way her hands rest lightly on his bare hips under his shirt as a steadying weight. When he’s completely done heaving lungfuls of air he pulls back a little to look up at her dopily.

Shinichi blinks down at him with her lipstick streaked all around her mouth and still barely where it should be- lips swollen and curled in amused adoration, face still completely covered in his cum.

An embarrassed sound escapes him as he pulls completely back, looking around futilely for a tissue box or something when, as he watches, she licks off the cum that’s on and around her lips, a grumbly hum of satisfaction her response.

“Shinichi?” The unspoken question cracks out, but when he moves to wipe off her face with his hand she pointedly stops him, gripping his wrist lightly.

“I told you precious: you taste delicious.” Her voice is so rough that the words are barely distinguishable, her used and abused throat working to articulate. Then a self-satisfied, proud grin stretches her cum-stained cheeks as she says, “and now I smell like you.” The blush that Kaito had worked off in the last couple of minutes returns with a vengeance, infusing his cheeks with heat once more. Then she pointedly glances down and smirks, saying, “And _that_ is a very nice sight indeed.” He follows her glance down to see exactly where the majority of her lipstick has stuck, then if anything flushes _harder_ , his blush reaching down past the neck of his shirt. The hand she still has gripping one of his hips suddenly reaches up, fingerpads tracing a line against his skin, only stopping when his shirt is rucked up above her forearm and she’s teasing a nipple with her touch. She looks thoughtful as he whimpers at the sudden stimulation, scratching across it lightly to feel it catch under her nail.

-

The next day when he’s leaving for school, Shinichi meets him by the door wearing royal blue lipstick rather than her usual indigo, and when he asks after it curiously she smiles secretively. She makes sure to soundly kiss him goodbye before leaning down to press a perfect kiss mark around his Adam’s apple, making him swallow, and he stares at her with wide eyes as she straightens again to whisper, “ _mine_ ” in his ear.

She pulls back and thumbs at his cheekbone, saying, “Come back home soon, darling. Have a good day.”

-

He’s almost late for school that morning, rushing in just before the late bell rings, wearing blue lip marks clear on his lips and on his neck. The professor looks vaguely disapproving but says nothing, only turning to start a droning lecture. He plops himself down next to Aoko and when they make eye-contact he blushes and fumbles to get his notebook out.

Kaito sits back in his seat to watch the instructor write things on the whiteboard, reaching to finger his lips hesitatingly when he hears her whisper, “I'd offer you some makeup remover, but I don't think Shinichi would like that.” His eyes fly to hers as she looks at him in hilarity, eyeing the marks consideringly. “They have a good eye for colors,” she notes teasingly. “It's the same color as their eyes.”

_(Kaito knows._

_He knows which is why he doesn't rub at the makeup throughout the day- why he eats his lunch more carefully than usual. The teasing looks and comments are well worth the smile that brightens Shinichi's entire face when he comes home with the lipstick still right where she'd put it.)_

~

His last hint begins with a series of unfortunate events that he really could've lived his entire existence without.

The first event is that Shinichi has to leave for a week (“or two, it shouldn't be long. I'm sorry love- I'd bring them here to watch them, but it's really not a good idea to bring a young reaper, fairy, golem, and sandman to an enclosed space like this with many breakable objects in reach- especially not at the same time. Shiho got caught up in something again and I'm the only one besides her and Hakase that will watch them all at the same time, and Hakase's busy right now with his own thing.”)

He doesn’t begrudge them that- how could he? A week or two is fine, though he’ll be a bit lonely of course. They’ll probably get back just in time to give him new hickies or something- renew the dark one he leaves on Kaito’s collarbone.

The second event is that Kaito forgets that he signed up for a week-long excursion as a kind of field-trip. He’d planned on asking Shinichi if they wanted to tag along when he’d signed up so it hadn’t been extremely important. Of course it turns out it _is_ important- because of course with their luck Kaito has to leave before they manage to come back.

He leaves a note on the table for them about where he’s going and for how long and stares down at it for a second, biting his lip. _‘I miss you,’_ he scrawls at the bottom, then puts the pen down and hikes his duffel strap over his shoulder.

-

Reshalot is the nearest big city- but the reason it’s significant enough that his class goes is that it’s one of the few cities in the country where magical beings make up nearly half of the population. Meaning that it’s not nearly so uncommon to run into one here as it is in a smaller town.

Kaito’d thought Shinichi might like it here, but thinks in retrospect that it might be better they hadn’t come. He sees more than fifty demons a day over the six of seven days, and he knows Shinichi and demons butt heads a lot. He’s not sure if the primary reason is because Shinichi’s a Noble being and demons fall in the category of Damned, or if it’s because demons like to try and mess with them for the mark and end up getting their faces smashed in for it. It’s a toss-up, honestly.

Anyway, as almost all school trips go, they had a schedule for the majority of the trip, and the rest of the time they’re free to do whatever. This time “the rest of the time” is the last two days, or yesterday and today, in real time. Kaito’d hung out with Aoko and Hakuba yesterday, but had decided to give them their date time today because he feels like being nice.

He’s also really missing Shinichi, and he’s pretty sure he makes for miserable company when he’s pining this bad.

So the event that only occurs because of the previous two takes place during the second-third of the final day of his field-trip, as he’s wandering alone in a not-too-busy shopping center and looking forlornly at clothing items and picturing Shinichi wearing them.

He’s actually about to head into a store to ask for more details about the high-heels in the window when he hears a voice purr into his ear, “I finally found you, Sorcerer.” And Kaito _generally_ wouldn’t assume that the “Sorcerer” being addressed was him, but considering the woman had spoken it into _his_ ear, he whips around and backs up a couple paces like a startled deer.

The demon regarding him with a sultry look in her light blue eyes is beautiful, aesthetically, with wavy, strawberry blonde hair and a confident smile. She’s also wearing nothing more than negligee in the middle of the street, which is admittedly startling and makes Kaito’s eyes jerk away. Just because he’s become intimately acquainted with Shinichi’s female form doesn’t mean he wants to go looking at every naked female, okay? But her clothing choice is actually the most telling indication of what kind of demon he’s pretty sure she is. His chance to reply is snatched from him by her stepping forward, fabric shimmering and accentuating things he would prefer not to be accentuated, thank you.

“How innocent,” she giggles, and reaches out a hand as if to touch his face. He jerks back again, keeping out of her reach, eyeing her warily.

“What does a Succubus want with me?” he questions slowly, watching for any facial tells. She only laughs, shimmering forward another step, and he answers with another withdraw.

She pouts a little, saying almost childishly, “Why’re you avoiding me? I only want to have a little fun~.” A shiver runs down Kaito’s spine at that, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck.

“I’m not interested.” He says it as flatly and clearly as possible. “I’m in a monogamous, loving relationship with my partner, and have no interest in entertaining you, nor anyone besides my partner.” Her eyes narrow, head tilting slightly, and her lips form a more neutral line, rather than the pout. They move another couple of steps.

“You’re not interested in me?” She asks the question with the bafflement of someone who has never been told such a thing. Then her expression shifts- Kaito sees it happen, and suddenly realizes he’s been backed into an empty street as he hears her utter, “That’s such a shame, since _I’m_ interested in _you_.”

Kaito. Can’t move. Can’t- her flowery aura is engulfing him, Charm spell unique to Demons of Sex paralyzing him. Charm spells aren’t supposed to be used like this- he knows they’re not- what’s she-

“You _see,_ ” she smiles in amusement, finally closing the gap by a step. Kaito can only watch. “There’s so many rumors going around in the magical realms, and a girl can’t help but be curious. They say a Griffin popped up out of nowhere when there hasn’t been one seen by lesser magicals in centuries. They say the Griffin somehow got collared like a common dog by a child-Sorcerer, barely old enough to leave his mother’s side. They say that the Griffin went _soft_ for their Master, is panting at his feet and following his every command- that the Griffin’s been _tamed_. And they say that Griffins are creatures never to be crossed- that no lesser demon could hope to stand a chance.” An almost cruel smile spreads across her face as she speaks, closing the gap step by step with every sentence. She strokes her nails down his face, his neck, lingering on his pulse, then says, “I’m wondering if only _one_ of them is pure rumor, or if there are more.”

 _‘Stop,’_ he tries to say. His body won’t listen. She leans towards him, and revulsion rushes through him as she presses her lips to his collarbone. Where the last hickey Shinichi had left had been. He feels her tongue against his neck.

“Hm,” she hums against him, then pulls back to look him in the eyes, licking her lips. “Well, I have no idea why any magical being would choose you- you don’t smell especially enticing.” _(“You smell delicious, love”)_ “Though I suppose I do smell bird in there somewhere, but it smells ridiculously weak. Class nine? More like class _two_ .” Hot rage flares in his ribcage, and he focuses his entire being on _burning this bitch_. A flame appears at the tip of her hair, not nearly as strong as he’d’ve liked, but she still screeches and swats it off before it gets farther than her shoulder.

Once she’s put it out, she spins him around to slam him face first into the wall behind him, growling out a, “You will _pay_ for that,” before she reaches under his shirt to press a palm to the center of his chest. Her aura presses down even harder into him, making it hard to think, to breath, and he knows he can’t cast magic now. “A class six, eh? Too bad for you I’m a class seven now. You can’t win against me.” Then she lips at his ear, aura curling in vindictive amusement at the way his head automatically flinches away from her. She nips his earlobe.

Fear courses through him: ice in his veins and he can’t move can’t speak _can’tcallforhelp_ -

“Aw, you’re terrified, poor duck. Here, let me try and fix that.” The hand not on his chest reaches from around his hip out of nowhere, unbuttoning his pants in what feels like one movement and stroking him lightly through his underwear as the other hand pinches one of his nipples.

_‘No-please no-’_

“‘No’?” she echoes, laughing. “My, young Sorcerer, you’re a hard show.” She presses the pad of her index finger against the head of his dick, massaging lightly, still no direct contact, and Kaito registers with disgusted horror that he’s starting to harden under the stimulation. She giggles softly, her lips rubbing against his neck, and she says, “If I make the Griffin’s Master beg for a second round with his cock still clenched within my sex, I wonder if the rumors will sing praises of _my_ name?” He feels the press of her breasts against his back, first three fingers petting a solid stroke against sensitive and heating skin, and swallows on tears that are threatening to rise.

_‘I’m scared.’_

“Kuroba!” The call sounds off from somewhere nearby, echoed by a fainter, more distant, “Kaito?”, and Kaito thinks it’s a hallucination that his mind has conjured up until he hears the Succubus “ _Awww_ ” into his ear.

Hakuba’s coming. With Aoko. A tentative hope sparks in his chest.

“That one’s a class seven too~” she pouts against his skin. “I can’t hold a Charm on a class six and seven at the same time. Not to mention the _Wizard_.” An annoyed sigh washes over the back of his neck, then he’s aware of _attention_ digging into his nerves and her hum of consideration. “This was fun,” she decides aloud, then he feels her suck a dark mark over his spine, parallel with his shoulders. Nausea roils in his stomach at the feeling, threatening to spill over as she murmurs, “I’ll return when you’re next alone.” The words dig furrows into his mind, and they keep echoing around him even as the calls are suddenly a lot closer, even as the presence of the demon finally disappears from behind him.

His legs refuse to hold him up, and he drops to his knees in the next second, barely hearing the tinny sound of Hakuba exclaiming, “Kuroba! Aoko- I found him!” as he vomits to the side, over and over until he can’t stop dry-heaving.

Hands touch his back and he recoils, hunching into himself and forcing out a tear-stained, “Don’t _touch me_!” His breath shudders out of him, and he finally registers the flow of tears that are dripping down his face like a faucet, vision blurry, and he chokes on another sob, burying his face in his hands and shuddering.

“Kaito? Kaito what’s wrong? Talk to me! Kaito!” As if he’s watching someone else break-down and crumble under their best-friend’s concerned hovering, Kaito notices that Hakuba isn’t saying anything. He wonders if the detective knows- can figure it out with the clues before him. He probably makes for a horrible sight: shirt disheveled, pants undone and dick half-hard, in hysterics with a hickey staring out at anyone that’s behind him, including them. At the memory of the mark Kaito starts retching again- heaving through tears.

 _‘Shinichi,’_ he thinks, slumping forward into the wall to stare unseeingly at nothing. _‘Shinichi I’m so sorry.’_

-

Hakuba and Aoko somehow manage to coax him back to the hotel the class is using, how he doesn’t remember. He just remembers shuffling forward like a zombie with every step, flinching everytime they tried to touch him, and only hearing a ringing noise where he’s pretty sure there should’ve been words.

Their professor looks like he’s one step from exploding when he first lays eyes on them, faint demands of “Do you _know_ how late you are??” penetrating Kaito’s consciousness, before the man seems to get a good look at Kaito and how fucked up he must look. He swallows his anger less than a second later, excusing them without asking anymore questions.

There’s an awkward pause as the three of them stand outside the door to Kaito’s room, but he forces himself to get the keycard out of his pocket, if only to keep them from touching him. Then he realizes that they probably expect him to go inside and stay inside _alone_ and-

_“I’ll return when you’re next alone.”_

“Stay,” he whispers out, voice rough and painful. “Please. Please don’t leave me alone.” Aoko avoids touching him as she enters the room without hesitation, looking back, and Kaito follows stiffly, Hakuba leading the rear.

“Don’t you want to take a shower?” Hakuba asks softly, and Kaito’s eyes fly to him. The other Sorcerer looks sad and tired, worried, and Kaito swallows back the guilt as his eyes glance away just as quickly. Kaito _does_ want to take a shower- God he wants it more than anything- (not more than he wants for it to never have happened- wants Shinichi to be here instead- doesn’twantShinichitobeherehe’stooashamed-)

But if he has to enter that bathroom alone in order to take the damn shower then ( _“I’ll return when you’re next alone.”_ ) it’s not worth it.

“I’ll go with you,” Hakuba offers quietly. Kaito looks at him, his yearning for the shower searching the blond’s eyes for signs of reluctance. No reluctance, just something else (pity?), and Kaito's too tired to care what the something else is as he nods slightly. Hakuba nods firmly back, sharing a grim look with Aoko before marching into the bathroom with Kaito trailing after him.

Kaito sort of zones out between the second and third scrub-down, skin turning red and achy in the process of trying to scrape _her_ off of it. He almost manages to forget that Hakuba is in there with him, the other Sorcerer staying quiet, until Kaito feels a hand touch the back of his neck and he knocks his head against the wall of the shower to get away.

“Don't _touch_ me!” Kaito yells, heart racing, and eyes the hand Hakuba still has stretched towards him. Hakuba looks slightly apologetic as he drops it to his side.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs. “I thought you might want that- that gone. I should've asked first.” _That_. The hickey. Kaito slaps a hand over the back of his neck and heals it, magic rushing to his fingertips ( _like it hadn't when he'd needed it_ ), healing the mark in a second. Kaito hunches a little, though, because they both know that _her_ aura is still infused into the skin. A mark of intent is not so easy to scrub away. Kaito goes back to ignoring Hakuba as he turns to try again anyway.

-

Kaito doesn't remember much of the rest of the night, just that Aoko and Hakuba had stayed in his room with him without needing to be asked. That, and that he hadn’t slept the whole night- hadn’t even tried, only staring out at the neon-bright city, curled up against the window and trying not to think about _anything_.  The next morning is much the same: passing in a blur around him as their professor approaches them during breakfast, asking him questions and Hakuba and Aoko answering for him, if the voices he hears are correct. He doesn’t bother figuring out what’s being said.

They leave Reshalot with the rest of the class, the professor’s mass-teleport transferring them to their school gym in a blink and with a hard tug. Kaito feels pathetically relieved when both Hakuba and Aoko start walking with him to his house without needing him to ask. They arrive without much fanfare, his house looming invitingly, the aura emanating from it warm and comforting.

Kaito feels a knot in his chest as they both tug him forward by the hem of his shirt, taking care not to touch skin. He doesn’t know why his feet are dragging against the pavement as they pass the gates- doesn’t know why his breathing is ratcheting up- but he does _but he doesn’t_ because it’s Shinichi _because it’s Shinichi_.

Who is standing by the table as they enter the house, one of his palms flat against the surface as his gaze flicks from Kaito to Hakuba to Aoko and back, staring hard at Kaito. His face twists slightly, confusion and _hurt_ glinting behind his eyes.

“Kaito,” Shinichi says. Kaito’s heart quivers at the sound. “Why do you reek of a Succubus?”

Kaito doesn’t feel Hakuba and Aoko stiffen in rage at this- too busy feeling his heart flinch and shudder and shatter into tiny pieces as he crumples to his knees.

“I’m sorry-” he chokes out, hand clenching around the fabric of shirt covering his heart. He feels hands on him, warm and heavy, but he still can’t help but flinch further into the floor, _hating_ himself because _it’s Shinichi_. “I’m sorry- I couldn’t stop her- I’m sorry- I didn’t want-” He’s hyperventilating, he registers dully, and three voices are ringing in his ears but he can’t process them as he keeps trying to heave in and out lungfuls of breath. Then that warm hand brushes against _that spot_ on the back of his neck, and he hears a hiss. “I’m _sorry_ ,” he moans out, tears prickling at his eyes.

Then an aura wraps around him, familiar, _safe_ , and he hitches out another breath as arms wrap around him, a face burying itself in his hair and feeling Shinichi's throat against his forehead. Kaito can't help but jerk a little at the feel of skin against his, but the rest of his muscles cry in relief as they relax under Shinichi's touch.

“Shh, Kaito,” Shinichi murmurs against his ear. “I'm sorry for thinking- you did nothing wrong Kaito: you don't need to apologize. Please love, it's okay. You did everything you could. Sweetheart-” and Shinichi keeps whispering, words kind and a balm on the knot in his chest that's been forming since yesterday. Kaito feels the hands stroke up and down his back, large and strong and not at all like _hers_ had been.

Then he stills in Shinichi's arms, finally completely registering the words, _‘Why do you reek of a Succubus?’_ Kaito _reeks_ of the Succubus. He’d scrubbed and scraped last night until Hakuba had had to stop him from actually rubbing skin off, but _her_ scent is still covering him enough for Shinichi to says he _reeks_ of her.

He doesn’t _want_ to reek of her. He doesn’t want to smell like _anyone_ save for himself and-

“Shinichi,” he breathes into the Griffin’s ear. “Get it off of me.” He feels hesitation runs its course through Shinichi’s movement at that- a physical stutter.

“What?” He asks, a finger stroking up his vertebrae, and Kaito hates the fear that spikes up his throat: _hates_ it because this is _Shinichi_.

And Kaito knows what he wants.

“Get it off of me,” he stresses, pulling back to look Shinichi in the eyes. “Her scent. Her touch. The memory of it all that’s fucking me up. Everything. Get. It. _Off_.”

He watches as blue eyes flash in anger, furious at the reminder of another touching Kaito, and feels a rush of satisfaction as Shinichi only stares right back and asks, “What would you have me do?”

“ _Take me_ ,” Kaito hisses, dropping his hand to press the heel against the Griffin’s groin, a sharp inhale the sign that Shinichi understands. Kaito lowers his head again to mouth at the other’s neck, tasting him, and pleads, “Overwhelm her touch with yours- her scent with yours. Help me forget.” He feels Shinichi’s hand draw a line of heat across his back, the change in the Griffin’s aura, the faintest growl audible in his exhale.

But then the other presses his forehead against the back of Kaito’s hair again, curling up around him protectively, and murmurs, “Kaito, that’s not a good idea.”

For a terrible-awful moment, Kaito flashes back to the night before: of how he’d cried and heaved out nothing as Aoko and Hakuba had watched- how dirty and disgusting he’d felt. How he’d thought to himself in despair _‘Shinichi won’t want me like this-’_ before he’d shoved that thought and smothered it with the memories of them whispering and mouthing _“I love you”_ s into his skin. He almost goes back to that feeling, starts hearing the words echoing in his skull again, when Shinichi only tightens his grip on Kaito and starts planting kisses all over his hair, nuzzling into the strands.

“ _No_ , Kaito,” he insists, voice sounding agonized. “None of it was your fault- and what she did to you has not nor could ever ruin you. Nothing you do could ever make me stop loving you, darling.” _‘Then why-’_ Kaito thinks despondently, face pressed against his collarbone, and as if Shinichi can hear his thoughts he rushes out, “It’s just not a good idea because- because you need something I don’t think I can give you right now. Kaito you’re _hurt_ \- you need to be treated kindly- _gently_. I can’t be gentle right now sweetling I _can’t_ \- and I don’t want to hurt you, so I won’t risk it.”

Can’t be gentle. Contrary to what Shinichi seems to believe should happen, Kaito’s mind spins around the words, considering them, _realizing them_ for the truth. Because even now Kaito can feel the anger and fury leashed and reigned tightly in Shinichi’s aura, roiling and frothing at the mouth, craving to rip the demoness limb from limb- _yearning_ to give Kaito what he wants.

Kaito recognizes that part of Shinichi, the part that’s screaming _‘Kaito is_ _mine_ _’_ like a battle-cry into the atmosphere. Recognizes it as the same declaration that had Shinichi biting bruises into his skin, had Shinichi wearing lipstick that sticks to Kaito wherever Shinichi kisses him. Marks that declare Kaito as _theirs_ : proof of Shinichi’s possessiveness. Kaito knows what to do to get what he wants (he wants _Shinichi_ ).

“I don’t _want_ gentle,” Kaito retaliates, shoving himself back and out of the Griffin’s grasp. He feels shockingly cold at the sudden lack of contact, but he won’t be for much longer. “What I want is _you_ , and all that you are.”

“Kaito-”

He grabs a fistful of Shinichi’s hair and yanks him down to growl into his ear, revelling in the soft hiss that escapes the other, the way his body tenses, “ _Fuck me_ , love. Fuck me until my body remembers that it _belongs_ to you. Take me until all I smell of is you, and all my body feels is the ache of your marks on my skin. _Claim me_ until the only thing I know is your name and scent.” Then Kaito uses his hold on Shinichi’s hair to drag his lover’s head back, exposing his neck as he groans at the feeling, and bites down _hard_ on the clear skin.

An animalistic snarl wrenches itself free from Shinichi’s throat, and he grabs Kaito by either side of his face to smash their lips together, pressing into the kiss with so much force that Kaito opens his mouth to moan. Shinichi takes advantage of this and plunges inside, immediately sucking Kaito’s tongue into his mouth to suck on it hard and graze it with his teeth. When Kaito moans again, muffled by the mouth entwined with his own, Shinichi suddenly releases his face, moving in less than a second to grab Kaito by the seat of his ass to physically pull him against himself, lifting his feet from the floor.

Kaito gasps in surprise at the sudden lack of ground under him but Shinichi doesn’t pause, doesn’t pull away an inch as he starts walking them both to the bedroom. Once they pass the doorway the Griffin squeezes a fair handful of his ass, making Kaito squeak and wiggle a little in surprise. Shinichi growls into the kiss, then finally separates them only to drop Kaito unceremoniously onto the bed, making him land on his back with a soft _“oomph”_ , and very quickly and unrepentantly tears Kaito’s shirt off of him in one long _rip_.

“Shin _ichi_ -” Kaito complains, but before he even has a chance to sit up his lover is already on him, pushing him back down into the bed and biting kisses into the Sorcerer’s neck, his hands tracing down his chest almost hungrily. Kaito can only gasp and whimper under the onslaught, but there is an obvious pause when Shinichi moves from his neck to breathe hot breaths on one of Kaito’s nipples, staring down at it.

Kaito squirms under the attention, wondering why Shinichi’s stopped, when he snarls again and commands, “Turn over.” Confused, Kaito complies wordlessly, and when he does Shinichi rips his jeans and underwear off of him too. Kaito squeaks again but Shinichi only leans down, his skin ( _when did he take his clothes off??_ ) hot against Kaito’s own, his chest pressed against Kaito’s back and dick pressed against the cleft of his ass.

The breath hitches in Kaito’s throat at that, but he can’t help the jolt of fear when Shinichi reaches one hand to rub at the nipple he’d been staring at and the other to trace a path down to Kaito’s cock, faint panic trying to ruin _everything_. Kaito knows why Shinichi changed their position now. Now it’s reminiscent of how _she_ had touched him, and Kaito wants to yell at Shinichi for _reminding_ him when-

“Mine,” the Griffin growls against Kaito’s neck, putting pressure behind both of his hands so the fingers dig in- in a way that’s so Shinichi that Kaito can’t think it’s anything like _her_ touch. Then his hand pulls- _drags_ itself away from Kaito’s dick to leave his skin for barely a moment, only to reappear as slick fingers pressing against his hole.

“ _Ah!_ ” Kaito breathes, as Shinichi presses a finger inside at the same moment he twists the nipple he’d been thumbing, shoulders hunching and lowering himself away from Shinichi involuntarily at the feeling. Surprisingly, Shinichi doesn’t seem to mind all that much, only moving the finger around to test the resistance before rubbing a second finger around the rim to coax it open slightly, slipping it inside without much effort. His other hand moves away from Kaito’s nipples to press heat into the skin of Kaito’s chest, lingering against his sternum and the lower indent of his collarbone.

Shinichi starts making hickeys all along Kaito’s shoulder blades- taking advantage of the space between them to dip his head down more than he could have otherwise, and spreads the fingers he has inside Kaito, scissoring him and thrusting them in and out.

“Shinichi-” Kaito pleads, pressing back, knowing it’s probably too soon for another but wanting the slightly painful stretch anyway because this is _good_ pain. Shinichi huffs in frustration against his spine before relenting, shoving a third finger inside to join the other two, not pausing as he continues spreading them inside Kaito’s ass and pressing them in as far as possible before pulling them out to stretch the rim and back, pace merciless.

Kaito can only moan at the feeling, pain sharp but overwhelmed by the pleasure, and it’s _definitely_ too soon when he says, “Shinichi, please, I can take it, please-” Shinichi makes a doubtful sound, pressing his teeth against the the spot between Kaito’s shoulder blades and brushing his pinky consideringly against the rim. Kaito doesn’t think he can wait past another finger- too desperate for anything but Shinichi's cock in his ass. Which he says explicitly, squeezing around the fingers for good measure.

With a nearly agonized snarl, Shinichi pulls his fingers free in one movement, leaving Kaito feeling shockingly empty for the five seconds that pass before he feels the now slick head of Shinichi’s dick against his hole, popping inside with a slight push. Kaito gasps in pain, muscles tensing, but Shinichi starts purring against his hair and lightly caressing the skin of his front, murmuring, “Good Mate,” and “So pretty for me,” and somehow Kaito whimpers his way through the hot thick stretch as Shinichi presses ever-inwards, not stopping until Kaito feels his balls bounce lightly off the seat of his ass.

Kaito gasps and pants around the intrusion, back arching and fingers clawing into the fabric of the sheets under them, but Shinichi doesn’t attempt to move anymore, just kisses the tense muscles in his neck and says soft sweet nothings into Kaito’s ear. The hand he has on Kaito’s chest is pressed firmly against his heart, and the fingers he’d used to stretch Kaito are massaging light circles into the curls above his dick.

The world pauses for that moment: a heated moment of intimacy and pain and pleasure and love, and Kaito swallows at the knowledge of this and manages to whisper, “Move.” He feels more than hears Shinichi breathe in sharply at this, his hand moving up from Kaito’s groin to press his palm against the flat of his stomach, and it’s almost too much already as Kaito tacks on a helpless, “Please.” Shinichi doesn’t respond vocally, only whining in the back of his throat against Kaito’s back before slowly pulling out a fair amount, both of them gasping at the feeling, then as if he can’t help himself Shinichi comes back in a lot harder than how he’d left.

The feeling punches the air right out of Kaito, breath escaping him, and his elbows and knees collapse under him- Shinichi’s arms wrapped around him the only reason he doesn't face-plant into the bed. He feels Shinichi's fingers curl into his skin, concern edging itself into his aura, but Shinichi’s incapable of focusing on anything besides the way Kaito’s ass feels like it’s sucking him in and the way Kaito’s entire aura is practically screaming at him to fuck his Sorcerer into the mattress. The grip he has on Kaito’s hips is implacable and guaranteed to leave bruises come morning.

He thrusts forward again, grinding in this time, and Kaito’s whine reverberates under Shinichi's hand, whimpers of “please,” and “harder” and “I love you” escaping him as if they are words of worship, and Shinichi can do nothing but comply. He leans forward to press his now slightly sticky skin to Kaito's, chest to back, and when he grinds in again Kaito lets out a loud cry, jerking in his hold, a tearful sob hitching in his throat, and Shinichi knows he's found Kaito's prostate. He makes sure to focus on that one spot in particular, pounding relentlessly and revelling in how beautiful Kaito is, how amazing he smells now that that scent and his own have eviscerated what had remained of the Succubus’s. How perfect he sounds and feels, droplets of salt escaping his eyes sporadically to drop to the sheets below but still pressing back into Shinichi’s movements, still making the effort to squeeze down around him occasionally: bringing Shinichi closer and closer to the edge.

Kaito's moans are hoarse but still powerful, head bowed when Shinichi's close enough to coming to realize he should probably be stimulating Kaito's dick somehow. He's about to loosen his hold on Kaito's abdomen to do just that when a fucked sound races out of Kaito, high pitched and breathless whines spilling out as he cums untouched, Shinichi reaching instinctively to catch all the fluid he can in a cupped palm, limbs going completely boneless under him as he slumps forward. Shinichi lets out a heartfelt groan at the feeling of Kaito spasming around him, and the faintest residual traces of the demoness’s aura make his pupils go wide with possessiveness, teeth gritting.

He knows what he’s doing and yet he doesn’t as he pulls out, the way Kaito’s sex-drunk aura clings to him finishing him even without being physically around him, and he cums all over Kaito’s back, arching himself around the curve so his chest and stomach doesn’t touch the white spatters as he leans down to dig his teeth into Kaito’s neck: the spot where the last of _her_ clings to his mate. No longer, now, Shinichi thinks in satisfaction as the blood wells up under his teeth. He licks at the iron tanged liquid absently, purring into the wound, and Kaito sighs under the attention.

 _‘Mate,’_ Shinichi thinks, then stills as a thought occurs to him. _‘Equals in all- take and give in equal measures_. _’_ He feels a rush of _something_ flood his ribcage: hot and aching and _wanting_ -

He ducks his head slightly, one arm still supporting Kaito as the other still holds a handful of Kaito’s cum, and nuzzles against Kaito’s ear as he asks, “Are you up to topping?”

An almost incredulous laugh comes from Kaito as he rasps out, “What, now? Dunno Shin- kinda… kinda fucked out at th’ momen’.”

Shinichi only hums comfortingly into his Sorcerer’s ear, saying, “Don’t worry love, I’ll get us ready again. I just need you to claim me as I claimed you.” Before Kaito can figure out how to respond to that Shinichi flips him around, propping him up so Kaito is on his knees and only upright for being curled around Shinichi. Then his Griffin noses at his mostly limp dick and- oh.

 _‘Oh,'_ the Sorcerer realizes, a moan forcing itself from his voicebox as Shinichi laps soothingly along the over-sensitized skin, taking the head past his lips to vibrate hums against it and tongue at the slit. _‘_ _Oh_ _,’_ he thinks, breath catching as he watches Shinichi angle his ass slightly higher and start to finger himself using Kaito’s cum. Kaito wants to flush at the sight, but he thinks whatever blood isn’t already suffusing his skin is too busy rushing down to re-harden his dick to turn his cheeks red.

Instead of focusing on deep-throating like they usually do, Shinichi seems more intent on actually just getting Kaito hard again, which is not taking as long as Kaito would have thought it would, if asked five minutes ago. It’s not so hard to understand now, watching Shinichi shove a second finger into his ass, his head bobbing up and down around Kaito’s dick, other hand alternating between fondling his balls and rubbing circles against his perineum.

The sight gets slightly concerning when, not two minutes after the second enters, Shinichi starts cramming a third finger into his hole, whimpering a little around Kaito’s now mostly-hard dick.

A little helplessly, Kaito cards a weak hand through his hair, saying, “Don’t push yourself darling.” The responding hum is practically dismissive, and Kaito watches as Shinichi’s second knuckles catch on the rim, and even though he whines at that he only pulls them out slightly to forcibly stretch his entrance.

“Shinichi,” Kaito protests again, trying to make his voice stern when the other pushes his three fingers in all the way to the last knuckle. Any further protest promptly dies in his throat, however, when Shinichi starts actively wetting his dick, a string of saliva connecting his lips and the head when he pulls away, leaving it to bob slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, distracted, leaning his forehead against Kaito’s hip. His breath is unsteady as he adds another finger- but instead of it being his pinky it’s his thumb. Kaito sees the way he keeps trying to spread the fingers apart, the sight _very_ distracting as Shinichi huffs out, “It’s been a while. Stubborn.”

“You don’t need to rush, sweetheart,” Kaito tries to reassure, but it comes out as more of a squeak as Shinichi nips his pelvis bone.

Then the fingers come out with a quiet pop as he mutters, “Want you in me,” before turning around and reaching back to line up Kaito’s cock with his opening, holding it there as if waiting for Kaito to push forward. But Kaito hesitates- the resistance he can feel is worrisome, and Shinichi glances back over his shoulder to look at him in impatience.

“Fuck me, love,” he says, stroking the soft skin of Kaito's dick with his thumb. “Take me until the world remembers that I’m the only one for you.” Then, to help the process along, he pushes back until the head is inside him, his aura pressing down on the both of them as it floods Kaito with overwhelming lust. His Sorcerer chokes on a moan at that, thrusting forward into the constricting heat- incapable of thinking of anything besides bottoming out. When he inevitably does, Shinichi’s arms give out on him and he collapses with a cry, chest pressed against the bed with his ass in the air.

“Kaito,” he moans into the mattress, _needing_ friction, and he squeezes down hard on the dick pulsing deep inside him.

His Sorcerer can’t think- can barely breathe. Everything is pure sensation under him, around him, with mostly-dry cum marking his back and their auras cloying and heavy with _want_ and _need_ \- forcing rational thought completely off his priority list. All he knows is the pressure surrounding his cock, a plea for movement, and the pure pleasure that rushes through them both when he pulls back only to sink in once more. He hears his Griffin’s responding cry, _liking_ it, inciting it once, twice more, the ends tapering off into moans that sound _delicious._

But they’re muffled- smothered by cloth- and that is suddenly unacceptable.

His hand snaps out and down, intending to grab a shoulder and yank Shinichi back up against him like that, but his fingers curl at an odd angle, and instead of clasping around bone he feels a pulse under his fingertips and _feels_ the next crying moan in the gap between his index finger and thumb. He feels it cut off with a gasp, feels the bob of an Adam’s apple under his knuckle, and hears a pleading whimper emanate from Shinichi.

 _‘Good,’_ everything around him whispers as one, and a snarl is wrenched out of him as he tightens his grip and pulls Shinichi back against him. Revels in the feeling of his Griffin’s skin against his own, scents mixing and merging, gasping breaths wheezing their way out of the other’s throat, vibrating against his hand. He keeps up the strongest pace he can manage, _“Claim me”_ and _“Fuck me”_ pounding in time to his own heartbeat.

“Mine,” he says, over and over like a chant- a spell. “Mine mine mine mine,” wraps itself along the surface of Shinichi's skin- becoming a second (third?) piece of him that collars his Griffin’s neck.

He can feel how close Shinichi is- how close _he_ is, and decides to tip the scale himself by dragging the nails he has on his other hand up his Griffin’s front, squeezing the hand he has wrapped around the pounding heartbeat. Satisfaction and the edges of his own orgasm only make the sight of Shinchi coming onto the sheets below them that much sweeter, and the feelings culminate as he releases with a cry of his own deep inside his lover.

He can’t hold on after that: panting and gasping and trying to remember his own name. Can’t. And doesn’t, as he falls forward on top of Shinichi and promptly passes out.

~

Kaito registers three things at once, as he slowly wakes up what feels like hours later. The first is that his own aura is filling the room, which doesn’t make sense as it’s acting like he’s in the middle of battle instead of just waking up _feeling_ like he’s just fucked and been fucked into the mattress. The second is that ever-familiar aura that’s entwining itself in the folds of his own- Shinichi wrapping themself into his scent and soul. And the third is the warm hands massaging his back- big and slightly slick.

A gentle kiss pressed into his shoulder and a soft, “Good morning, love” is how Kaito knows Shinichi knows he’s awake, but the hands don’t stop. Kaito tries to sit up- but the attempt is laughable with how achey almost all his muscles at once are. Fingertips press into his lower back, pressing him down, and Shinichi says, “Shh, Kaito. Just lay down and let me take care of you.”

“Mmm,” he vocalizes back, because Shinichi’s hands on him feel amazing, and he feels himself go boneless under his Griffin’s touch.

“I’ll heal you, if you’d like,” Shinichi says quietly, almost apologetically, fingers ghosting across his hips and the back of his neck.

Even before he can fully process the offer Kaito is shaking his head into the pillow under him, whining, “ _No_ …” He can still feels the fingers on his marks- _his_ and Kaito protests a little louder, “They’re _mine_.” Weak laughter comes from above him, low and slightly shaky, but the fingers fall back to press thumbs under his shoulder blades and _oh that’s nice_ -

“They look like they hurt,” Shinichi murmurs after a couple of minutes, sounding guilty. Kaito’s too lethargic to understand at first, and so Shinichi continues an actual apology when he says, “I’m sorry Kaito. I shouldn’t have- I was really rough. I’m sorry.” Kaito blinks at that, then realization sweeps in as he realizes Shinichi’s aura is curling into itself in shame.

“ _Shin_ -” he starts, almost angrily as he tries to turn over, but his muscles are still protesting quite a bit more than he feels when he’s still, and Shinichi’s hands press him carefully back into the mattress. That doesn’t stop him from muttering into the pillow: “It’s what I wanted. I _liked_ it.” His Griffin says nothing, and he’s about to cobble his thoughts together for another reason when Shinichi coaxes his legs apart applies soft pressure to his cheeks with his knuckles. His breath rushes out of him in a contented sigh- whatever oil Shinichi’s using feels _heavenly_.

Then Shinichi spreads his cheeks, and he feels air against one of the more sore areas of his body. He thinks he hides the small flinch physically when Shinichi presses a slick finger against his slightly swollen rim, but there’s no hiding the faint echo of pain in his aura when it’s filling the room like this.

“I didn’t even prep you properly,” his Griffin mutters, fingers contrastingly gentle as they lightly coat the space between his cheeks with the light substance. The pain fades to nothing under the attention, but Kaito only barely registers that as he forces himself to flip this time, pushing his limbs into the movement. This time Shinichi doesn’t try to push him back, breath only huffing out quietly as careful hands rearrange him so he’s lying on his back comfortably.

“That was because I goaded you into it,” Kaito points out, cross. “Stop taking the blame for things I asked for, moron.” Then he actually processes what he’s seeing, and breath hisses through his teeth at the sight. Shinichi’s staring down at him morosely, wearing nothing and biting his lip lightly, but what catches Kaito’s eyes is the dark purple handprint circling itself around his neck and almost overlapping with the bond mark. “ _Shit_ ," he says feelingly, reaching up a hand to touch the bruise as horror courses through him. “You’re going on about hurting _me_ when-”

“Kaito,” Shinichi cuts him off, taking the outstretched hand in both of his own. “I liked it,” he says, massaging Kaito’s hand with sharp focus. A small smile quirks his lips as he cuts his eyes at him and adds, “We both know I’m the kinky one between us. You don’t need to do it if it makes you uncomfortable, but don’t apologize for doing something I like.”

Kaito’s aura roils with incredulity, unable to tear his eyes from his handprint on Shinichi’s throat, but he manages, “Back at you then.” A fond look spreads across Shinichi’s face, fingers pressing warm streaks of oil into his forearm, when he looks down and his expression crumples.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pain the emotion behind them, and Kaito’s wrenching his mouth open when he adds, quietly, “I’m sorry that Succubus managed-.” His mouth shuts with a click, cutting off Shinichi’s own words, the Sorcerer’s eyes flitting away for a split-second, and the split-second is more than enough. “I’m _sorry_ ,” his Griffin repeats, words aching and splintering through his aura. He curls forward to press his forehead against Kaito’s elbow, shoulders hunching.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kaito mumbles through heavy lips and with a tongue made of lead.

“I-” Shinichi mumbles into his skin. “She’ll never touch you again- I swear- but that doesn’t change the fact that I failed you. I failed you, and then as if that wasn’t bad enough I thought-” He chokes, and cringes further into Kaito’s arm, breathing out, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shinichi-” Kaito protests, raising his other arm to cup the other’s exposed temple, “it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“You should.” The words are sharp, Shinichi’s aura fluctuating, but the anger that had been thrumming in it when he’d last been awake is completely gone, only sorrow and exhaustion to be found. “You _should_ blame me. You should punish me- take your dues.”

“I _won’t_ ,” Kaito insists, words firm and stern. He pushes his fingers through the short strands, rubbing at his cowlick comfortingly.

They linger in that position for several moments longer, Shinichi with his head bowed and Kaito just petting him, when he finally releases a gusty sigh, presses a kiss to the soft skin of Kaito’s inner forearm, and says, “Then at least let me take care of you, darling.” He returns to massaging Kaito’s arm, leaning forward with a small, unreadable smile so as to not break Kaito’s hold on his hair. Kaito starts going boneless again, hands outstretched but weak. He feels his eyelids drooping in the heavy-soothing atmosphere.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Shinichi whispers into the silence, voice achingly fond. One of his hands stay caressing his Sorcerer’s veins as the other cups his cheek. Kaito can barely hear him, the words not filtering through as words but as praising sounds. “Your magic is enchanting- sparkling and such a pretty color. Did you know it’s the same shade as your eyes?” A thumb strokes the skin next to his eyes gently. A quiet moan leaves Kaito’s throat, aura curling into the attention.

“And your _scent_ ,” his Griffin’s voice continues, laced with awe as the fingers trail down his face to lightly trace his pulse. “You smell like joy and laughter, like adrenaline, like the exhalation of a battle won. When you first summoned me, it was your scent that drew me to you.”

Kaito makes a questioning noise, then feels his pulse jump slightly when a nose presses into the other side of his neck, drawing long strokes down his chest with one hand as the other moves up his arm to rest lightly on his nape.

“I was not obligated to come, dearest. No Griffin is ever obligated to heed a summons. But your request for my presence was laced with your smell, and I could not resist.” Then Shinichi presses a smile into his collarbone and murmurs, “The best decision I will ever make in all the years we will live.”

Kaito melts into the statement, the Truth in the words, fondness in the tone, love in Shinichi’s aura, and curls back into a sleepy haze with the feeling of his Griffin’s hands over him.


	2. When Karma Comes to Collect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffins are not the forgiving sort.
> 
> (And Life Goes on)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The torture scene actually happens before the aftercare in chap 1 but I figured it would be better if I separated them.

There is a place that resides in the depths of the Demon Kingdom. It has a flooring of blankets and carpeting both warmed by body heat, smooth cold wood, and tile that fog with warm breath. It is never empty- for there is where every Succubi and Incubi reside when they are not feeding or pleasuring themselves with those that are not their own kind.

It is unreachable in its throes of lust by all- but for few exceptions. Those willing to turn over all of their identity: to lose their name and face and body and soul for the sake of pleasure are always welcome. Those invited personally by the ruler of the realm may enter. Those strong enough to break the protective barriers should not pass but will if they wish- though they may sorely regret it.

Those who set foot in this den of carnality are guaranteed to be overwhelmed by the stench of sex and lust. It is a Charm spell woven into the very fabric of the location- produced long before the oldest being has existed.

But creatures that hail from the lands ruled by Heaven’s light- those Pure and Noble ones- are immune to the calls of depravity. The magic rolls off them like marbles across concrete: shaken off with barely the notice of its existence.

This is why the Griffin strides past its borders with their wings fanned out behind them and talons clicking harshly against the tile path leading ever- inwards. Their every step is punctuated by fury: read in the lash of the lion tail, heard in every rustle of their feathers, seen in the way their eagle eyes rove across the barely-if-at-all-clothed Demons of Sexuality that stop and stare as it passes, softly pointed tails frozen in the act of swaying. The Griffin walks the path of battle. The masses wonder if it will be a war.

The Griffin paces to a stop when they reach the end of the path, staring up at the beautiful, very naked demon that looks down at them with a bright-red smile. Her heavy breasts sway as She moves in Her throne of velvet, pale skin contrasting with the glass of red wine She swirls between Her fingers, long blonde hair curling its tips around Her nipples. She props Her calf up onto Her other knee and brings up a finger to rest the corner of Her mouth against it.

“Dearest Shinichi,” She purrs in amusement. “What brings you to Our abode finally lusting, but yet for blood?” Her smile widens further as She adds silkily, “Even so still smelling of sex?” The Griffin takes a more appropriate form for speaking, becoming humanlike yet keeping their wings and tail to further express anger. The only thing they wear over their skin are the dagger-sheaths fastened to their thighs, as is standard of a Griffin’s humanoid war-form. The blue-purple collar of spells wrapped around their neck tells all of exactly which Griffin has entered their court. With this audience it far outshines the dark bruise that the collar is nestled in.

“High Courtesan,” they address, eyes serious. The blonde’s eyes drop infinitesimally from amusement. “One of your subjects has attempted to steal what is mine. I have come to receive due payment.” A flurry of whispers and murmurs fill the halls for everyone has heard the declaration, bare skin breaking out into goosebumps at the power the Griffin exudes.

Thievery is not abided among higher ranks of magic. Punishment for such is what the old mortal Arabian culture was based on, and yet was still too light. If the Griffin tells the truth: one of their own has committed a serious offense.

“Hm,” the High Courtesan hums, letting Her gaze float over Her realm. She locks eyes with the Griffin, then commands, “Bring forth the one that was foolish enough to cross a Griffin.” The Griffin does not pause nor falter at the command, only swivels to regard the wide area, inhaling visibly. Those close enough to see their face register the dark rage that washes over the Griffin’s face as they move to stalk forward in a straight line off the path. The dwellers watch with bated breath as they do not hesitate once, advancing ever onward.

They come to an abrupt halt in front of a cluster of four succubi, huddled together and staring up in horror, demon wings trembling at the force of the glare. Then their teeth bares in a snarl as their hand flies out to grab the transgressor by her hair, turning with no other acknowledgement as they stride back to the High Courtesan, dragging her behind them by the pink-yellow strands as she screeches and calls for help. Her brethren look on warily, because she is their own and they will not hesitate in aiding her if their Lady calls for battle. Until then the Griffin is only following Her command by dragging the she-demon like this, so they do not protest.

The Griffin throws the Succubus to the ground at the foot of the throne, widening their stance as if in preparation for a fight.

“Rose,” the High Courtesan sighs in disappointment, staring down at the other blue-eyed blonde that watches Her in a mix of awe and apprehension. “You have let becoming a class seven get to your head, dear one. Bit off more than any of your kin might chew. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

“My Lady,” she lets fall from her lips, pleading and protesting. “Would you choose to believe a creature such as this in favor of one of your own?” Rose has eyes only for the one that sits upon the throne whose mouth curls in mocking amusement, and so does not see the seething aura that roils behind the Griffin’s eyes.

“Ah, but Griffins tend to speak only truth.” Her words are layered with the irony of an inside joke that Rose is not in on. She shifts again, sits straighter so She can move the hand She was leaning on to rest over where Her heart would be if She were not a demon. “And this one is the child of a friend. We have many subjects that are loyal to Us, yet very few friends. So what does that make you, Rose?”

“I am your loyal subject, my Queen! I would never do as this Griffin suggests!” The Griffin stiffens at this claim and the High Courtesan’s eyebrow rises in faint curiosity, Her eyes drifting to the Griffin and then back to Rose.

“Interesting,” She draws out, looking almost entertained. “You claim you did not attempt to steal from Our Shinichi, yet here they stand before Us making that very declaration. How can this be?” It is a rhetorical question if any of those present have ever heard one. Silence hovers in this never-silent area, thrumming as the High Courtesan brings Her glass to Her lips and takes a sip. In the quiet, Rose makes to stand but her feet are swept out from under her, leaving her to stare up into the burning, hateful eyes of the Griffin.

“You will not presume to rise, **scum** ,” they spit at her, breaking the silence with anger spiking their words, their eyes glowing cobalt. “ **You will beg and grovel and cry for forgiveness, drag your belly across the ground and beseech, lick toes as if it will turn them in your favor, but you will not think you have the right to raise your head ever again.** ”

Rose has not ever been alive during a time Ancient Tongue was the Common, but she knows her mother tongue enough to pale in response to the words and the way the Griffin’s aura suffocates her- pinning her to the floor by her ankles and neck.

The following frozen moment is shattered by the High Courtesan’s ringing laughter, as if She is greatly entertained by this entire debacle. She releases the glass and it disappears from sight, leaning forward in Her throne towards them. Her hands grip at the arms of Her seat, red nails standing out starkly against the black.

“Rose,” She starts, voice filled with mirth, “tell Us what exactly you have done that has infuriated Our Shinichi. For this one is not easy to anger this terribly, and We do not believe you will walk out of this alive no matter whether you deserve it or not. Now We wish to know if it _is_ deserved. This is great fun.”

Feeling two different pairs of eyes on her, Rose licks her suddenly dry lips and says, “You will observe, my Queen, that the Griffin is owned by a Sorcerer.” The Griffin bares their teeth at her, hissing. They do not attempt to hide the mark because it is not something they think to be ashamed of- have not for a long, long while.

“We had heard _and_ observed as much, Rose,” the High Courtesan states, sounding abruptly bored. “Give Us information that We do _not_ -” She stops mid-sentence, eyes widening in realization. “Oh _my_ ,” she says.

Hurriedly, Rose continues, “The bond only controls the Griffin, not the Sorcerer. So it is incorrect that I have attempted to steal from the Griffin, for he is his own- not theirs to claim.”

The Griffin snarls at this, a guttural sound, and they move as if to kick Rose when the High Courtesan commands, “Wait.” The Griffin stops mid-movement, nostrils flaring, knowing that disobeying the order will mean a battle against every one of the demons here. Even a class nine would not survive that. The seated she-demon utters, “Rose is not incorrect with her statement, Griffin. If you have come here in response to your Master almost lying with one of Ours, then it is not payment for theft you seek but a battle. And she is free to call on her brethren for aid in such a case.”

Rose feels satisfaction well in her as the Griffin stills, staring up at the High Courtesan with blank eyes. She makes to get up again when the Griffin snaps their foot out and presses it warningly against the back of Rose’s neck.

“High Courtesan,” they start neutrally before the action can be declared a battle cry, “there is something that has been bothering me. I nearly couldn't believe the circumstances of this case myself, for you see I was under the impression that it was your kind’s main code that you obtain your energy only _consensually_.” Her eyes sharpen dangerously at this, leaning ever farther forward to peer into the Griffin’s eyes.

“Do you mean to say,” She states quietly, “that Rose has betrayed the most sacred Succubi Rule?” Gasps of horror resound through the masses, and Rose feels more eyes than she can count pierce into her. She sweats nervously.

“You are of course correct that if my Sorcerer had consented to this _insect’s_ approach, I would have no room to protest,” the Griffin admits freely. “However, as he did _not_ consent, he did not set his decisions apart from our own. He has said he is mine as I am his. He did not betray his words by saying yes to _this_ ,” they grind their heel lightly down into Rose’s spine, “so he is still mine. Thereby meaning that by forcing her attention onto him: she attempted to steal him from me.”

“Rose,” the High Courtesan intones, voice cold as ice.

Panicked, Rose interjects, “My lady, please! For what reason would I break the core of our being? I would have no motivation to do such a thing! The Griffin lies- attempts to deceive you!”

Ringing silence follows her declaration, tinged with incredulity as her Queen stares down at her in near wonderment. The Griffin’s wings rustle.

“The Griffin lies,” the High Courtesan echoes slowly, tapping Her nail against the velvet. Then a derisive smirk spreads across Her face, the red-tinge on Her lips making them appear bloody. “If you claim the Griffin lies, then We order you to do one thing and one thing only, and We may yet believe you.”

“Anything, my Queen,” Rose rushes breathlessly.

She spreads her arms wide, as if to encompass Her domain, and commands, “Tell Us that if you had completely lain with the mortal, it would not have been rape.”

Rose hears the words and remembers the boy’s neck against her lips, his scent drenched with fear and terror. Of the way his muscles had flinched away from her caresses even as his cock had begun to harden, how when she touched his mind all she could hear was _'please stop-I don't want this-Shinichi-help me-I’m scared-I can't override her Charm-help-someone anyone help please-’_ and how he'd chanted _'nonononono-’_ in his head like a mantra as if the word could form a barrier between her touch and his skin.

Rose thinks of this, and opens her mouth to speak the lie: _“It would not have been rape.”_

The words will not leave her voicebox, much less let themselves be formed by her tongue. She chokes on them, coughing and retching, and the harder she tries to speak them the more pain radiates in her vertebrate, lighting up every nerve she has.

“Rose,” the High Courtesan utters, entirely unsurprised. “We would have thought that when you decided to spit at the feet of a Griffin, you would have learned enough about them to know that Griffin are the Enforcers of Truth. They cannot lie, and no one near them can lie. And so with your incapability of saying the freeing words, you admit that Our dear Shinichi is correct in calling you an attempted thief.” She leans back and waves a hand through the air, “Dear Griffin: take your retribution here and now so We may see.”

Rose jerks her head to stare up in horror at the Griffin whose eyes are narrowed in vindicated satisfaction. She forces tears to her eyes, hoping the Griffin will take pity as they’re a Noble creature, and whispers, “What do you want from me so I may be spared?”

“What I want?” The Griffin echoes. They seem entirely unaffected by her crying act. “What I want is to have arrived in time so that the only thing necessary to do would be to have ripped out your heart and forced it down your throat. What I want is for you to have never laid eyes on him. What I want is for you to have heard nightmare tales of the days of old where Griffins _ate_ those who crossed us, and to have been so frightened that you never dared approach. What I want is for you to have _never been born_.”

Rose’s heart is beating too fast as she hears the Griffin sigh.

“But not even your Demon King can change the sands of time. No one can reverse what has happened.

“So what I _want_ ,” the Griffin articulates, “is for you to feel _dirty_ and _disgusting_ when I am done with you. I _want_ you to be too revolted to look at yourself in the mirror, to feel your heart in your throat when you think of how it’s _your fault_ that this has happened. I _want_ you to beg and plead and cry for mercy- for it to stop- to admit you’re _terrified_. For you to realize how helpless you are.

“I want you to feel as my Sorcerer did when you forced your attention on him. But I want no one to interrupt- because a cowardly, molesting, would-be-rapist like you does not deserve to be saved.” The Griffin draws their dagger from the sheath tied around their left thigh and spins it idly between their fingers, staring down at Rose with narrowed eyes.

Fear washes through her ribcage, her heart, and she scrambles to get onto her hands and knees- to _crawl_ away, squeaking, “Please no please-”

They bring their foot down on her wrist, grinding the bones under their heel, saying coldly, “I haven’t even started yet.” Then they bend down to drive their dagger clean through the third knuckle of Rose’s index finger, making her cry out in pain. They don’t even pause before yanking the dagger out of the ground to stab it through her finger again, vertically this time, the blade thin enough to pin her hand to the ground by the first knuckle now.

Rose gasps, but the Griffin only informs blandly “I keep the blade sharp enough that if you pull you’ll be free- if you’re willing to slice your finger down the middle yourself.” Her breath catches in her throat at the words but they don’t acknowledge it, only lifting her other hand from the floor by pinching the wrist, examining it analytically.

“ _Please_ ,” Rose says again, breathy. She can heal the wounds once the Griffin has had their fill, of course, but the promised approaching pain is frightening. The Griffin lets out a sharp bark of a laugh.

“For laying a hand on what is mine,” the Griffin says, holding one of her fingers within their free hand, “I will take all you used to touch him with. Everything that has pressed against his skin will go.” Horror courses through Rose as they glare down at her, adding, “I will also take one of your eyes for the exact same reason. I would take both, but I must leave you the option to see what your hubris has brought you.” Then they rip the finger they hold clean off her hand with a hard yank, dispassionate as she vocalizes her pain. They only move their hold to the next finger.

 _‘If this is all that awaits me,’_ Rose thinks, panicked, _‘then I_ _must_ _flee!’_ She rips her hand free from the dagger, gasping as the pain lances through her, dagger slicing her finger in half vertically as they had said it would, and in the moment she takes to register the pain the Griffin swoops down to immobilize her wrist again, spearing their dagger through her middle finger the same way.

Rose sobs as the Griffin promises, “Do it again, and I will do the same to the next. I have a personal vendetta against those fingers in particular, which you’ll understand if you have more than two brain cells to rub together.” A shudder runs through Rose’s spine, and pained determination runs through her as she thinks to herself, _‘If it’s guaranteed anyway that the same will happen to the other two then I will sacrifice them to get away.’_ She steels herself, then yanks her hand back again, the dagger ripping through bone and skin once more. The Griffin fulfills their promise with a thrust of the dagger, and Rose pauses only a moment before pulling free for the final time. _‘Free!’_ she sobs to herself in relief, then shakily attempts to get to her hand and knees, the floor under her slick with blood.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the dreaded voice inquires, flinted edges, then the dagger comes down again: burying itself to the hilt in her calf, slicing nerves, pinning it (her) to the floor. She lets out her first scream but they only continue, “Now whenever you free yourself I will only injure a body part I had not been intending to injure. Stay still and take your punishment like the bitch you are: we have much to go through yet.” Then they rip off her second finger as easily as they had the first, tossing it away as if it were an apple core and moving on to the next without pausing. Rose doesn’t even have time to process the loss of her second finger (the _complete_ loss- not counting the shredded three on her other hand) before the third hits the floor as well, and she feels the hand wrap itself around her pinky.

“Wait-” she cries, tears crawling off her nose onto the floor.

“What,” the Griffin snaps out.

“What-” Rose hiccups, “what all are you going to take?”

A pause, then sounds off the heated hiss of, “You do not even _remember?_ ” She only cries, letting her sobs be her answer. “I suppose you will have to remember as I go along with the rest of your brethren, then,” the words are hateful, and the Griffin rips off her pinky as well. Her thumb is gone before she even feels the hand wrap around it. Then their hand slides up her fingerless hand, both hands wrapping around her wrist, and the intent is clear.

“No please-” she begs, but the Griffin pays her no heed as they tear the fingerless hand free of her wrist, bones snapping and crunching in the movement. Rose screams again, the pain pressing in all around her, and she feels faint from the loss of blood. _‘What if I die before they are done?’_ she asks herself fearfully, and her leg twitches around the dagger.

Then a glow shines out of the corner of her eyes, and she lifts her head weakly to see- _the Griffin healing her??_

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” they snap, jerking up the hand she still has (but not for much longer). “I’m only stopping blood-flow so you don’t die of blood-loss. I won’t take the pain away.” As if to punctuate that statement they peel off one of the two halves of her index finger, taking the skin off the L of her hand all the way to the base of her thumb. She screams, wings beating fruitlessly, tail lashing but much too weak to do a thing. The Griffin does it again, dragging the other half towards her thumb, and she starts full-on sobbing as the half-finger just hangs limply past her wrist. Again, and again, and again and again, the useless halves drooping from her mid-palm like tentacles. Then the Griffin holds all the useless pieces of her in one hand as they _pull_ , don’t even bother twisting, and the bones crackle as they separate unnaturally. Sobs are ripped from her throat as the Griffin heartlessly removes the other pinkie with a twist and snap like the first had gone, then presses her hand to the ground. Rose thinks hopefully that this means they’re done with this hand when the Griffin moves their foot to put pressure on her thumb, holding her wrist as if-

The thumb stays under their foot as her wrist is pulled away, detaching itself with the violence of the pull. She just wants this to be over as she cries out weakly, losing energy. Her hand is finally separated from her wrist as well, as expected.

Rose is close to passing out from the pain- hoping that it will be over by the time she regains consciousness, when a jolt of electricity races through her system, lighting up _everything_ and making her jerk. It’s not painful- not with her hands and fingers in pieces spread across the floor, but it wakes her up.

“Don’t go falling asleep now,” the Griffin says stonily, grabbing a fistful of her hair to drag up her head, staring into her eyes. “Next are your breasts.”

The words grab hold of her lungs- Rose’s eyes widening as she asks, “ _What?_ ” Their eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line as they get a firmer grip on her hair, finally removing the second dagger from their other sheath. She thinks slightly hysterically that if they keep mutilating her like this she won't be able to heal it all in one day.

“It matters not that you are too stupid to remember,” they inform her, tracing the line of her heaving breast with the tip consideringly. “All that matters is the fact that _he_ remembers.” Then the blade is burning hot as it plunges into her- cauterizing the wound as it carves away the tissue, hilt going under some of it so the tip peeks out the other end. She _screams_ \- not realizing she could scream louder but she _is_ because it _hurts_. She writhes in the position- leg pinned down and held by her hair but the rest of her is twisting in a futile attempt to get away, her stump-tipped arms wiggling around lowly.  The Griffin does not struggle in the slightest to keep hold of her, only adjusting their hold on her hair so they have the roots of the strands gripped between their fingers. What was her breast falls a couple feet away with a disgusting squelch, and with a flick of their wrist the excess blood on the dagger spatters to the ground nearer by before they rest the tip against the curve of her other breast. Pain wrenches through Rose once more as she screeches- screeches for anything to _cease this stop this please_ -

“He was just a mortal-” she sobs out, her entire front much lighter now and reeking of burnt flesh and feeling of giant burns. The splat of the other mound of breast tissue makes it sound like a stepped-on maggot. “Just a mortal. Just-”

“ _Not_ 'just a mortal’,” the Griffin snarls, pressing the flat of their blade against Rose's cheekbone, blood smearing. “He will _never_ be just a mortal. He is the owner of all that I am- as I am his. He is not _just_ anything. He is _everything_.” Then they slam the dagger back in its sheath to reach their fingers into her eye-socket, grabbing hold of the slippery organ and yanking it out without much fanfare. The scream that is ripped out of her like her eye has been covers the sound of what was once hers joining the scattered pieces of gore around them- blood gushing down her face and some getting into her mouth. She tries to close it- she doesn’t want to _taste_ this- but the Griffin pries her mouth open with the thumb of the hand holding her hair, lodging behind her teeth as they pinch one of her front teeth remorselessly between the finger and thumb of their blood covered hand. Their body is drenched in blood nearly as much as she is, now, she registers as they rip the tooth out from the roots, flicking it off to the side uncaringly as they immediately move to the next.

Rose feels wind in her empty eye-socket and sobs again, choking on blood. They forgo reaching for a third tooth to angle their grip so her head is facing the ground, letting her cough and vomit up blood and wretch and gag without deeming it worthy of a comment. Then their hand passes over her face, the warm flow of blood running down her face ceasing, before, instead of grabbing the next of her other upper teeth, they take hold of one of her lower front teeth. The moment she even considers _‘why-’_ , she remembers nipping at the boy’s ear for flinching when she lipped at it, remembers the responding fear that had jackrabbited his pulse up.

 _‘My fault,’_ she moans to herself, feeling the last of her four front teeth take its painful exit. “I’m _thorry_ ,” she utters, voice cracking and pleading. She can only say anything because the Griffin has removed their fingers from her mouth. “I won’ do it again- never again-” she sobs, chest shuddering, “tho pleathe- I’m _th_ _orry_ \- pleathe-”

“Too little too late,” the Griffin interrupts, the sound of their dagger leaving its sheath once more sending Rose flinching backwards, their implacable grasp holding her steady. They press the blood-stained blade to the indent between her nose and mouth, pressing just slightly enough for blood to bead at the tip. Rose’s breath hitches as they say, “Your fate was decided for you the moment you thought yourself above a Griffin and their mate.” Then the dagger withdraws from her lip for just long enough to poke inside her mouth, swiveling the angle so they can remove her lips from the rest of her gums from the inside-out.

She only whimpers, feeling the pain but not wanting to risk more injury just to cry out. The dagger lingers in her mouth even as what were her lips falls to the ground, plop themselves right next to one of her stumps of a wrist. Then the Griffin hisses in irritated fury, surging upward and releasing their grip on her hair. As Rose had been mostly only held up by that pressure she falls back to crack her head against the floor, wings and tail pressing into the ground as she stares up at the Griffin in surprise.

She feels significantly less surprised when they replace their hand with their foot, stepping on her hair and keeping her from rising as they reach into her mouth with their now-free hand, pinching her tongue and drawing it out off her mouth. She barely even has a second to realize- to understand- _(She tastes him, searching for the scent of the Griffin that is supposedly all-powerful, and_ _laughs_ _-)_. The dagger comes down, slicing through her tongue like butter, chopping a fair three inches off the end, and Rose feels a gush of blood run down her throat once more, choking and gagging as the Griffin moves their foot so she can sprawl over to raise herself onto her elbows and cough it up, the severed part of her tongue slapping sickeningly against the floor with the wave of red liquid iron.

Rose feels the Griffin yank their dagger out of her thigh, the sound of the two knives being sheathed echoing in her ears. _‘That must be the end,’_ she reassures herself frantically. _‘I had no time to do much else. And once they leave I can heal myself. I will survive this. I will.’_

“I said,” they state coldly from above her, ceasing the flow of blood coming from her mouth, “that this was for laying a hand on what is mine.” A foot suddenly thuds down on her spine, pressing down just above her tailbone, and she gasps in fear and pain and horror. “This is what I would do to any who dare touch one of my treasures. But what you did was hurt the owner of my heart, and so I will give you the worst punishment any magical being can think to dread.” Rose thinks for a panicked moment that the Griffin is just going to kill her after all the torture when their foot shifts upwards, settling between her shoulder-blades: _her_ -. The blood leaves her face as the Griffin takes hold of the bases of her wings.

“Most of what I have just taken will grow back on their own. Eventually. Hands, fingers, lips, and teeth. But these, the wings of a Succubus, hold all your magic.” Their grip shifts slightly on the fragile things trying to beat weakly to escape their hold. “When I take them you will not be able to heal any of your wounds yourself- you will not be able to cast magic nor use the spells of your species ever again. Never again will you Charm one unwilling. And _these_ will never grow back.”

Their grip tightens, intent unmistakable, and Rose doesn't have a tongue to form the words, but they pulse out of her with all the magic she can muster- _anything_ _she has to keep it-_ _'Please, I beg of you! Do not do this! Please! I’m sorry! Please! '_ The Griffin pauses, able to comprehend her wordless pleas for what they are, and she feels a tentative hope in her chest, breath shuddering out of her, when-

“You did not stop when he begged you to cease, so why should I?” They question coldly, before ripping her wings out of her back, using the foot they have on her spine for leverage.

Rose wails, agony coursing through her veins and eating her alive, her magic- her _magic_ ripped away from her for the rest of her forever. Limp, horrified, unable to do anything but stare sightlessly at the blood-covered floor and scattered pieces of herself, she feels herself being lifted by her hair, raised into the air.

“See what remains of your sister!” The Griffin calls to her watching brethren, and Rose peels her eye ( _eye!)_ from the gore to see-

To see her fellow Succubi and Incubi all staring at her with horror and disgust. No caring. No concern. Just a spectacle to be gawked at: the body in a cautionary tale.

“Spread the word! Remember! For if this happens again you will feel what your sister feels now!” Then the Griffin drops her, letting her fall in a heap to the floor. “I will take my leave now, High Courtesan,” they sigh, voice slightly respectful, fury no longer roiling unceasingly in their aura.

“Wait a moment, Griffin,” the Queen commands, and their head jerks up to regard Her. She only looks out at the rest of Her Own, eyes narrowed consideringly, before She declares, “Children, hear Us!” She did not need to demand their attention to have it. “To further emphasize how displeased We are with what has happened, We have a punishment to add.” The Griffin’s eyebrow twitches, the masses gasping in surprise, and Rose moans into the layer of blood. “Rose,” She says, “for breaking the greatest rule of Our kind, we rule that you are hereby banished from Our halls.” Rose’s head snaps up, dried blood caked in her hair, her only eyes staring fearfully up at the High Courtesan. “And so, not one of Our own is allowed to aid you, for you no longer belong to Us.”

A cry of pain and betrayal escapes the lips of the disgraced Succubus, words garbled and indistinguishable, but before she can continue she vanishes. A small frown is on the Griffin’s face as their eyes are fixed on Hers, and She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you displeased with Our decision?” She inquires, and their eyebrow only raises slightly, head tilting.

“Why would I care?” They ask blankly. They blink, then the frown is back as they add, “May I leave now? I have somewhere to be.”

Her returning look is as fond as it can ever appear as She questions, “You really do care for him, don’t you?” They pause at that, face going soft and loving at whatever they’re thinking of and not once sparing a glance at the multitudes of lesser Incubi and Succubi that are scrambling back out of their way.

“ **He is who my heart sings for** ,” they say finally, citing an old Ancient saying used only to refer to life-partners. Then they settle their shoulders and state, “His soul calls for me. I must go.”

Her lips curls in amusement, then falls into a fake pout as She says, “Aw, you’re already leaving? But it’s so much fun to chat with you!” They only nod at her slightly before turning away, heedless of the layer of blood along the ground, the wings of what was once a Succubus both held in one hand as their own wings start flapping, lifting them into the air. The Griffin is already out of sight when She sighs, waves for someone to clean up the mess, then reconjures Her wine glass into Her hand and leans back, raising it to Her lips.

“We must find a wedding present for them,” She muses to Herself. “Yukiko will be thrilled when she finally hears.”

~

Kaito had gotten back from the trip on Saturday afternoon, barely able to face the days ahead. It’s only after three day, on Wednesday, that Shinichi stops hovering enough for him to go back to school. Kaito’d felt slightly bad for missing those two days of school, but he’d been too content basking in the pampering Shinichi’s been giving him. He’s also admittedly a lot less sore now, and the marks are a little less dark, so. But instead of seeing him off at the door, Shinichi closes the door behind both of them, keeping pace with Kaito even as he falters. He’s wearing Kaito’s shirt and pants, which is both embarrassing and not considering Kaito’s also wearing Shinichi’s clothes.

“Uh, Shinichi?” he asks, because the only other time Shinichi’s gone to his school was the Koizumi Incident and that had only happened because Kaito had forgotten his bento. Shinichi only smiles mysteriously at him and starts up a discussion on exactly what makes rare flowers rare.

By the time they get to Kaito’s school he’s half-expecting Shinichi to follow him into the classroom, but he only walks him to the room in question before kissing his cheek and saying, “Let’s go shopping after school, I’m thinking maybe stew. Or hamburgers. Either or.”

And Kaito only manages a very confused, “Okay…?” before Shinichi smiles brightly at him and turns, walking away.

-

The Griffin enters the Conference Room with two Sorcerers, a Wizard, and a Warlock waiting for them. The three men and one woman look up at the approach, eyes wary and slightly awed.

Before any of the mortals can speak, the Griffin announces, “I have decided I may forgive you, on the condition of several problems being addressed.” The others blink, taken aback by the statement.

“I believe there may have been a miscommunication,” the sterner appearing Sorcerer asserts, sitting straighter. The Griffin does not appear impressed. “My name is James Black, and I am the Grandmaster of this establishment. We sent a messenger bird with a request to discuss matters…?”

“A messenger bird?” They echo, considering the phrase, and then asks, “Are you referring to the lark that visited yesterday morning? She was quite the fangirl- wanted to see my wings. She mentioned no such thing as a meeting, but I did scent magic on her.” The Grandmaster grimaces at that, regretting that even his most trustworthy messenger bird had been charmed by the Griffin.

It explained why the Griffin had not showed yesterday.

“But wait,” the Wizard says, blue eyes behind the glasses acquiring a puzzled tint, “if you didn’t get our summons, then why did you come?”

The Griffin blinks slowly at her, then, as if to a small child, states, “I am considering forgiving you for your incompetence.”

Three of the four look affronted at the accusation stated as a fact, and the other Sorcerer cuts in, “Our incompetence?!”

Unamused, they raise an eyebrow at the outburst and return, “Yes. Of course. Yours especially, in fact, but as it seems all four of you hold positions of authority you will all answer for it.”

Before the younger Sorcerer can do something ill-advised such as arguing with a Griffin, the Warlock asserts, “Noble One, we had originally called you here to discuss your treatment of the Succubus.” Their eyes narrow and become slightly flinty, raising their chin.

“What of it?”

“Do you not think you went slightly overboard?” The question is phrased carefully and spoken by the Grandmaster. “She was sent into the streets in front of an orphanage. The sight of her scarred the children. We had to move her for she could not move herself- we have since moved her to a safe place for injured and incapacitated magical beings, but-”

“Unacceptable,” The Griffin interrupts, face darkening. “You will not presume to treat that _thing_ kindly. Abandon it in the desert for all I care: it will not live its invalidity in comfort.”

The Grandmaster flinches slightly at the anger in their face, but the Wizard leaps to her feet, exclaiming, “But the _children_!”

“I had no input in where it was banished to,” they respond. “I am sorry your younglings were subjected to the sight, but it does not change the fact that the creature committed an unforgivable transgression.”

“What you did,” the Warlock articulates, the Wizard stopping to look at him, “was inhumane.” The statement is the bare bones of everything they had been trying to get across. The Griffin is entirely unmoved.

“You will take note,” they say clearly, voice cold and dry, “that I am not human. Attempting to force myself or another Magical Creature to abide by your mortal terms of “humane” would be simply ridiculous.” There is nothing they can say to that. “So abandon it. Where, I do not care. But if you continue to give it shelter then at best I will consider you incompetent and move it myself, guaranteed to do more damage if forced to view it again, and at worst will consider it a challenge from you four to myself and will demand a duel of honor from each of you.” All four blanch at the prospect, because even the Grandmaster and Warlock are only class eight. The Griffin raises their eyebrow once more and asks, “Do I make myself clear?”

They exchange looks in silence, before the Grandmaster says quietly, “We understand, Noble One.”

“Good.” They bite the word into the quiet, then immediately continue with, “Though I may rescind my intent to forgive you if you do not regret your failure.”

The younger Sorcerer finally manages to contribute to the discussion once more as he questions, “What failure?” A snarl twists the Griffin’s face and sends a shiver of trepidation down the four mortal’s spines.

“ _You_ took a class of forty-eight untrained mages to _Reshalot_ \- a place even _I_ know of as a Demon Playground,” they seethe, glaring at the brunet Sorcerer, “and you did this while giving them _no protection whatsoever_.” The man, the one that had been in charge of the field trip, shrinks back.

“The children were more than capable of protecting themselves-” the Wizard rushes to her coworker’s defense, then stops dead as their glare turns to her.

“ _‘More than capable’?_ ” they hiss. “Children, you call them. Younglings, they are. And yet you take them to a Demon Playground and let them fall into crevices as they will. How arrogant are you to assume that no demon would _adore_ a chance to taint your innocent- to assume no demon would _dare_ cross you? Even your protest, 'protect themselves’, implies you expect your students to face what they will on their own. How _dare you_?”

“Noble One-” the Warlock cuts in, and it’s admirable that he does not show outward signs of distress when they turn their gaze on him. “The children are all about as strong as class sixes, and Reshalot is rarely frequented by anything stronger than that. We believed they would be able to hold their own in the very unlikely case of a demon approaching them with bad intentions occurred.”

The Griffin's eyes are practically steel as their voice flattens into ice, saying, “You are both arrogant _and_ foolish for pinning the safety of your charges on the unreliability of _probability_.” Before any of them can even think of a response to that, the Griffin demands, “Do you even _know_ what has happened?”

The Grandmaster clears his throat, then murmurs, “We have been informed of what happened to young Kuroba,” they all look slightly uncomfortable, “but as nothing actually happened, we decided the matter settled upon being brought to us.”

“What.” The Griffin appears frozen- stark disbelief etched into their face.

“You already punished the Succubus in question!” the Wizard points out. “What else would there be to-”

“‘What _else_ ’?” The Griffin demands, voice rising steadily. “‘ _Nothing actually happened_ ’? _How_ _dare_ _you?_ ”

“What would you have us do?” the Warlock breaks in quickly, placatingly opening his palms. “You have already punished the Succubus in question. We most likely would have done so if you had not, but as that has been dealt with-”

“ **You understand nothing** ,” the Griffin spits, eyes flickering cobalt. The brunet Sorcerer and Wizard exchange worried glances: they do not understand Ancient. “ **Even setting aside this specific incident, and know I ache to separate your heads from your bodies for even considering doing such a thing, the fact remains that something** **_would_ ** **have happened, and ‘nothing happened’ only because more younglings intercepted and protected.** ” Their fury flies to claw into the uncomprehending brunet Sorcerer’s skin as they demand, “ **Where were** **_you_ ** **when one in your charge needed aid? Gallivanting and enjoying the pleasures of Reshalot?** ”

“He does not understand Ancient,” the Warlock says quietly, causing the Griffin to snarl in irritation. “But I must repeat, Noble One: what would you have us do? You have already taken care of it. Why are we obligated to do anything?”

The Griffin chews words, rage surging in their aura, before articulating carefully, “Allow me to attempt to explain this in a way even a _fish_ could understand.” It’s not a compliment. “I regularly- what’s the term you mortals use- _babysit_ four younglings. I watched the four of them barely two and three weeks ago, in fact. They are all about as old as your class of children, and though there is the disparity between ages of immortals and mortals, I want to make one thing clear. If what happened to Kaito had happened to any of them- even if it was ‘ _nothing_ ’, I would be morally obligated to offer their parents my wings in repentance.” Silence. “Because they trusted me with their hearts, and by allowing that to happen to them I would have betrayed their trust and the trust of the youngling in question. How dare I presume to get off scotch-free? How dare _you_?”

They turn their gaze on the Wizard, saying coldly, “And you would have them fending for themselves. Minders are supposed to mind- not assume everything will be alright and shrug and do what _he_ has done.” They flash a pointed look at the brunet Sorcerer, then, “How is one to defend against those stronger than them?”

“The probability-” the Grandmaster starts, then breaks off, freezing in place. The Griffin’s aura is subjugating his own- rendering him incapable of speech. He tries to move- instinctually to cast a spell to protect himself- but his limbs will not cooperate. The Griffin’s eyes are pure cobalt now.

“Probability,” they sneer. “And what is the ‘probability’ of you ever encountering one more powerful than yourself that would work in opposition of you, Grandmaster?” Their eyes touch on the other three, immobilizing them as thoroughly as the first.

“Very low,” he answers immediately, mouth opening without his volition. “I am equivalent of a class eight- and all demons more powerful than that besides The Great Three are culled to avoid a possible rebellion. The Great Three would forever believe themselves above me so they would not bother. I never accounted for one other than a demon wanting to oppose me somehow, and not many are above class eight besides. I never suspected a Noble One would take issue with me, and-”

“Cease,” they say, disinterested. “‘Nothing happened,’ you said. Know that I do not want an answer when I ask: are you aware that you are completely under my control, you four? I could do whatever I wanted to any or all of you, and you would not be able to lift a finger in protest. How does that feel? If I dismembered you as I did the creature, would you consider it as ‘nothing’ because I did not kill you?” Their eyes stop glowing, aura pressing down still but not as suffocating as they ask, “How can you consider it ‘nothing’ only because the action was not completed?” Guilt churns in their stomachs as they contemplate it: reconsider and reassess the truth in the Griffin’s words.

The Griffin sighs in exhaustion, tired and a little sad, saying, “Kaito has gone through far too much because of all of us for us to not learn from our mistakes. I have learned from mine. Will you learn from yours?”

A silence fills the room, before the Grandmaster finally exhales a breath and inquires, “How do you suggest we improve our methods?” The Griffin smiles.

-

Kaito, having felt Shinichi’s aura hanging around the school the entire time in confusion, follows it once the final bell rings, only to find him deep in discussion with Grandmaster Black and Professors Akai, Camel, and Starling. The second he gets to the open doorway, though, they all look up at him: Shinichi’s face softening into a fond smile and immediately he straightens up to move to Kaito’s side. The other three regard him with slightly more assessing looks, an emotion on their faces he can’t completely place until Grandmaster Black rises from his seat and, as Kaito watches, _bows_ to him.

“Wha-” escapes him before he goes a pale shade of pink, eyes flicking to see what the other magic users think of this. They seem completely unsurprised, making the pink darken to a red.

“Young Kuroba,” Grandmaster Black finally says, and Kaito swallows. “I must apologize for being so lackadaisical in the protection of my students. I assure you it will not happen again- we will take your Griffin’s advice to heart. I only regret that you had to be the example to make us see how we were wrong.” Kaito jerks his head to Shinichi, _knowing_ he was behind this, but the only expression on his face is approving. He twines his fingers with Kaito’s, aligning their veins, and Kaito only manages to flush harder and make an acknowledging mumble of a sound, curling his face into Shinichi’s neck to hide.

“Let’s go shopping now, sweetheart,” his Griffin mumbles into Kaito’s ear, kissing his temple lightly, and Kaito nods slightly. They start to walk away when Shinichi pauses, and when Kaito glances up at his face he looks contemplative before turning to say over his shoulder, “You, of the Phoenix bloodline: I expect better. Human mortals are terrifically selfish and arrogant- do not tend towards your mother's blood in the case of righteousness. I have only ever known Phoenixes to be fair: perhaps you should learn from that side before you attempt to lecture a full-blooded Noble.” Kaito glances back over Shinichi's other shoulder to see the other three staring at Professor Akai in shock. Shinichi resumes walking, gently leading Kaito away before the man can respond.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kaito mumbles into Shinichi’s skin as they make their way to the marketplace. “It’s embarrassing, and kind of humiliating.”

“Kaito love, you deserved an apology from them. Believe me.” Kaito lets out a hum of doubt, and Shinichi sighs before stopping them, pulling Kaito out of his neck to rest his forehead against Kaito’s own, looking into his eyes. “They should have given their students items of protection to ward off demons in general. What happened with that Succubus would most likely have not happened at all if you had had even Blessed Water- which is _not_ hard to come by- and flicked it at her. There were methods of protection, but your instructors were relying on the fact that it was unlikely for such a thing to occur.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” Kaito admits, desperately trying not to think of _her_. “It just really sucks- being the example.”

Shinichi’s eyebrows push together, a little frown forming on his face, before pushing a little harder against Kaito’s forehead. “If it makes you feel better- it’s not just you. Younglings like your classmates probably don’t understand how dangerous and charming demons can be. I wouldn’t be surprised if one or two of them made contracts or even bets with demons when they had free-reign in Reshalot.” A grimace crosses across his face as he pulls back a little and says seriously, “You should actually look into that- ask around. The incompetence of your professor honestly worries me. For all we know your classmates think they sold their soul to a Demon of Kindness or some such nonsense for the chance to meet a Unicorn.”

Kaito wrinkles his nose, “A ‘Demon of Kindness’?”

Shinichi shrugs, smirking mischievously as he points out, “It’s about as likely as a Demon of Truth, and you bought into _that_ for seven months.” Kaito makes a face at him.

~

The first time Kaito had come home from school to find something waiting outside the gates of his house, it had been Ran in her Swan form and that had ended decidedly not-well, so it’s reasonable that the next time he finds himself in a similar situation, he’s slightly wary.

Not too wary though- it’s hard to be wary at all when the being waiting is a tiny version of male-Shinichi. Kaito has to fight not to coo and squish his cheeks- then feels distinctly horrified by himself: since when has he turned into the old ladies that do that exact thing? He should check himself into a clinic. He seriously contemplates that option as the boy looks on, tiny eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Can I come in?” The voice even _sounds_ like Shinichi- though a very childish version. Kaito suddenly wonders if this is Shinichi’s clone. “Hello? You alive in there?” the boy looks slightly bewildered.

“Are you a clone of Shinichi?” Kaito blurts out, because he apparently has no mental filter. The mini-Shinichi looks like he’s contemplating Kaito’s sanity, or possible lack-of.

“...No?” The boy asks more than says, as if he’s not sure if Kaito was seriously asking the question. He knocks pointedly on the gate, “Can I come in?” he repeats.

“Oh!” Kaito says, having momentarily forgotten why the tiny child would be stuck outside his gate in the first place. “Yeah, sure. Wait- you’re not a demon are you?” The boy enters the gate without answering, and Kaito wonders if he’s avoiding the question or if he just wants to avoid Kaito’s possibly contagious idiocy. Kaito follows the boy inside, only to find Shinichi, once again, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, as they always seem to be when Kaito enters the house with someone.

This time Shinichi only stares down stonily at the miniature him who’s smiling brightly at him, then says, “Go away.”

Mini-him pouts, “You’re not happy to see me?”

Shinichi rolls his eyes, “I saw you literally a month ago, brat. I’d rather you go back to where you came from.” If anything, mini-him pouts _harder_.

“But she sent me to see you!” The protest is whiny in a cute way, Kaito decides.

“Which is exactly why I’m sending you back to see her,” Shinichi retorts. “You really think we need a kid-sibling, Conan? You think that’s what we need? Because if you don’t go back and be a cock-block: that’s what we’re gonna get.”

Kaito… feels slightly blind-sided. Especially at the way mini-Shinichi- _Conan_ \- doesn’t even blink at the term.

“She already forbade me from going back,” Conan whines, shuffling a little in that way little kids do when they’re pleading. “If you don’t let me stay- I’m just going to stand outside.” Then he nearly mirrors Shinichi as he says, “You really want a body on your porch, Shinichi? Because if you send me out that’s what you’re gonna get.” Shinichi stares down at Conan for a moment, before finally pinching the bridge of his nose and _thunk_ ing his head against the wall and groaning.

“Sometimes I really dislike you,” Shinichi informs him blandly, gesturing for him to enter further into the house. Conan only smiles brightly again and follows the gesture, practically skipping inside. Then Shinichi’s eyes finally light on Kaito and he startles, before guiltily saying, “Welcome home, Kaito.”

“Shinichi,” Kaito acknowledges, still a little dazed. “Who’s that?” Shinichi looks like he’s regretting a lot of things at the moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s, uh,” he says, then sighs. “Come on, he needs to get used to introducing himself.” Kaito nods before entering the kitchen, finding Conan sitting at the dining table and swinging his legs.

“I’m Conan,” Conan tells Kaito brightly, obviously having heard Shinichi. “I’m a Reaper, the second child of Yukiko and Yuusaku, and Shinichi’s younger brother, not their clone.” Kaito sees Shinichi blink at that and is not willing to step on his pride to explain that yet. “And you’re Kuroba Kaito: the Sorcerer that **has Shinichi by the collar with their lips wrapped around your dick**.” Kaito flushes _violently_ , not an expert in Ancient yet but he’s proficient enough to parse that out. Out of sight he hears Shinichi groan as if in pain.

“You don’t even _know_ Ancient,” he moans, muffled, probably into his hands. “Who the _fuck_ taught you that?”

“Auntie Chris,” Conan says cheerfully. “She said it meant something like he’s married to you.” He blinks innocently, tilting his head and asking, “Was she taking liberties in translating? What does it really mean?” Shinichi enters Kaito’s field of vision to walk over to Conan and flick his forehead when it’s in range, Conan whining and holding his forehead in response.

“Let’s go with: you are officially not allowed to speak Ancient until you know it,” Shinichi states dryly. “ _Jeez_ , Conan: Hakase is gonna have conniptions when he finds out you still talk to the High Courtesan after the last time you took the rest of them to Her boudoir. You’ll be the death of him: I’m calling it now.” Conan pouts.

“Everyone had fun!” He protests. “And I had to top Ayumi’s clearing _somehow_!”

Sounding slightly strangled, Shinichi says, “First of all: one doesn’t just ‘top’ the Field of Tranquility. That is a _seriously_ sacred place- and considering Reapers are categorized as Tainted you are really lucky you get to see that. Second: if your trump card is _the den of Incubi and Succubi_ , you should really put more thought into your trump cards before bringing your equally-young friends there.”

“Wait-” Kaito squeaks, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “Go back.” The siblings blink at him. “The _actual_ High Courtesan? One of The Great Three? ‘Auntie Chris’?

“Yes,” Conan says, nonplussed.

“She’s a friend of Mom’s,” Shinichi explains quietly.

Kaito takes a deep breath, mentally shuffling that question to next as he raises a finger and asks, “Both of you have met the High Courtesan personally?”

“I saw her a couple days ago,” Conan confirms. Kaito feels slightly more faint. “Shinichi saw her what, a week ago?” Kaito’s eyes fly to Shinichi, who shuffles a little at the attention.

“A week?” Kaito asks, thinking _‘But Shinichi’s been with me this entire past week- ever since-’_

“She told me about what you did,” Conan says conversationally to Shinichi, who hunches a little in response. “She said she’s sorry she can’t give you a honeymoon present since Griffins are different- but that she’ll give it to Mom since she knows Mom likes those.” Shinichi manages to sink further back down the wall, groaning again.

“That’s why you need to cock-block them,” he punctuates. “The last time the High Courtesan gave them a ‘Honeymoon Present’, Mom popped up five months later with _you_. I swear to all that is Holy, Conan: if eight months from now we have a little sister named Rasputin I will blame you, see if I don’t.”

“ _Rasputin_?” Kaito asks incredulously, and in tandem both siblings say, “Dad has shit taste in names.” Kaito pinches the bridge of his nose, then says, “Okay. Okay.” Then he looks up and questions, “How are you two different species? Two entirely different categories, even, considering Shinichi’s a Noble and Conan as a Reaper is Tainted?”

They look at each other, shrug, then Shinichi says to Kaito, “Mom’s an Aura-Walker. It’s- pretty rare. Basically she can take on the auras and every aspect of any species besides their actual appearance if she gets a sample of them. She can’t hold the form for long, but it turns out that if she and Dad have sex when she’s in a particular aura the baby comes out like she was an actual member of that species.”

“And your Dad?” he asks weakly.

“Dad’s an immortal who’s aura is so creepily flexible that whatever Mom is, Dad practically is too,” Shinichi informs. “Which is why Conan and I are basically pure-bloods even though, as you say, I’m a Noble creature and he’s a Tainted one.” Kaito’s torn between wondering at the complexity that is Shinichi's life and what exactly Conan is and is not allowed to know.

As if sensing that question, Conan says blithely, “I know what sex is, duh. I mean, I see mortals die almost daily: of course I need to know how exactly they come into existence for the planet to sustain losing so many.”

Well. At least _that_ makes some sense.

“So,” Kaito finally starts, shifting his weight. The siblings have been exchanging entire conversations with looks, and Kaito’s concerned there might be a murder soon with the looks Shinichi keeps sending Conan. “How long will you be staying, Conan?”

“That depends,” Shinichi says before Conan can speak. The Reaper pouts. “Are we keeping him for how long the Honeymoon Present lasts, or are we dumping him on someone else?”

“Shiho said she’s still busy,” Conan pipes up. “And I couldn’t get in touch with Hakase, so I think he’s still busy too.”

The look Shinichi sends back is drier than the Sahara as he says, “Maybe we’ll let you at Auntie Chris, then. See how long She’ll keep you around when Her subjects finally start feeling ill.”

“ _Then_ where would I go?” Conan points out.

“Somewhere in Europe to start the next plague, hopefully. Or maybe just smack in the middle of Australia- nothing but dingos and kangaroos out there.”

“Well-” Kaito interrupts, eyes flicking between the two. “What _is_ the Honeymoon Present? And how long would it last?”

“The Honeymoon Present is a spell unique to the High Courtesan, that can compel a body to go into something similar to a heat,” Shinichi explains. “In certain cases it doesn't work, but if the body is capable of reproduction at least once a year then the spell can work on them. And I can't say _exactly_ how long it lasts, but I do know that it lasted about two months with Conan's conceivement.”

Kaito doesn't know whether to focus on the spell that induces a heat or the two months part.

“Face it Shinichi” Conan says, almost reasonable-sounding. “You’re the best option.”

Shinichi grimaces, before turning his head to look at Kaito, saying, “It’s up to you in the end, Kaito. It’s your house. If you’re really against it I can have other friends watch him…?” The look on Shinichi's face is asking Kaito to say no, but the second he lays eyes on Conan’s pleading expression he folds like a deck of cards. There is no way he can ever say no to those eyes. They must both read the answer on his face because Shinichi groans as Conan cheers.

“Why?” Shinichi complains. “Why is it that _my_ wedding present comes back to bite me in the ass?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it lol


End file.
